Special Investigations Division: Romulan Mission
by Loki's Son
Summary: The SID team joins the Tal Shiar in discovering who has been selling trilithium weapons to third parties. Along the way they investigate Koval, Shinzon, and the planet Remus.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of its related properties. All such rights belong to CBS/Paramount.**

**This is the sixth installment of the _Special Investigations Division_. I hope you enjoy. More is on the way. **

* * *

Brin Macen lay on his stomach, peering at the Tzenkethi base stretched out before him. He slid back into the wet grass crowning the hillock overseeing the western portion of the encampment. The members of his Special Investigations Division team were lined up across the ridge facing the weapons depot. Tapping the boots of Rab Daggit and T'Kir, he summoned them for a brief conference.

"The base appears to match the layouts we obtained." Macen informed them, "What's your assessment on security and infiltration?"

T'Kir tapped a few commands into her tricorder then closed it, "I've got the electronic security systems wired. We can walk in and out as we please."

Macen indulged himself in feeling a moment of pride for his Vulcan paramour, "And physical obstacles?"

"The operational specs we were given outline a guard detail of ten troopers. Radil and I have come up with a plan that should shut them down."

"Should?" Macen asked with some amusement, and a little worry; "You are aware of the fact that they do outnumber us. You've forgotten to account for the scientists and technicians in your little estimate."

"I considered them a non-factor." Daggit admitted.

"Anybody that can pick up a disrupter is a factor."

"Let me consult with Radil for a moment." Daggit requested and crawled away.

Macen let out a sigh and set in to wait for Daggit's return. Besides himself, Daggit and T'Kir, the mission team consisted of Radil and Kort. Hannah Grace, Lisea Danan and Hal Dracas were aboard the cloaked _Solstice_ in orbit above them. The starship crew hated being left behind but someone had to be in position to rescue the away team if disaster struck.

"You okay?" T'Kir asked in a hushed whisper. As an extremely powerful telepath that shared a permanent rapport with Macen, she needn't have used words but she knew he was more comfortable conversing than thought casting.

"When does it end?" he asked bleakly.

"This mission?"

"All of these missions." He replied bitterly, "When will we finally make a difference?"

"This is because we're after trilithium, isn't it?"

Tolian Soran, another El-Aurian and Macen's distant uncle, had been the first to isolate trilithium and used it to destroy a star. Now it seemed his secrets had not died with him. It was the second time in recent history that Macen had been called upon to mitigate the damage a destructive El-Aurian discovery could do. For a pacifistic race, his people tended to uncover highly volatile scientific secrets that could easily be used for brutal ends. Macen supposed that was true of every race. .

"Get over it!" T'Kir hissed, "Quit moping, we have a job t'do."

Macen shook his head as if to clear literal cobwebs, "You're right. It just gets to me sometimes."

"I know." T'Kir squeezed his hand, "I've been there longer than anyone else. I'm not going anywhere."

T'Kir could see the effect her words had upon Macen. As an El-Aurian, Macen was considered a highly skilled Listener. He also suffered from survivor's guilt for avoiding the assimilation of his homeworld by the Borg. His decades of serving on the front lines of the Federation's conflicts, the Border wars, the Cardassian War, fighting alongside the Maquis following the signing of the DMZ accords, and behind the lines throughout the duration of the Dominion War had left Macen suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This left him virtually unable to truly confide in anyone else and fearful of their eventual loss. To voice his doubts so readily indicated how troubled he truly was. It was a psych profile that would normally have excluded Macen from Starfleet service but Macen was a valuable weapon who served as a reservist and as a special "consultant".

Macen studied T'Kir in the pale moonlight and the faint glow of the base's lights coming over the ridge they occupied. Physically, they presented themselves as total opposites. Macen was fair skinned with red hair streaked with blonde. T'Kir's hair was the darkest black, worn all tousled and carefree.

Both possessed round faces. Macen's was dominated by the moustache and goatee he habitually wore. T'Kir's crystal blue eyes captured all attention given her face. Her large, sensual lips also drew the attention of those that studied her features. Her delicately upswept Vulcan ears also drew their share of looks.

Macen was tall for the average humanoid. He was born with a trim frame and lithe muscles that conveyed some sense of musculature but not that of bulk. He was also starting to carry a few extra pounds on his gut. In other words, he resembled the analyst and researcher he was by nature rather than the field agent he'd become.

T'Kir also violated the physical stereotypes of her people. Besides the rarity of her blue eyes and her abandonment of logic, she was also far more voluptuous than the average ascetic Vulcan. Her body type closely matched that of now-Admiral Saavik's. Whereas Saavik's body type was a result of her dual Romulan-Vulcan heritage, T'Kir's was a result of being raised by Romulan defectors to the Federation and Vulcan dissidents. Her diet and lifestyle had allowed her genetic predispositions to blossom.

Daggit chose that moment to slide back alongside them, "Radil and I worked things out. Luckily Hal made extra stun grenades for just an eventuality. Kort will assist Radil in clearing out the scientists' barracks."

Only Daggit referred to Dracas by his first name. Most others used his last name or referred to him as "Chief", his reserve rank with Starfleet,

"Which leaves us one short for taking the primary guard station." Macen pointed out.

"I can handle that task alone."

For all their experiences together, Macen tended to forget how adept at dealing out death and destruction Daggit truly was. Daggit had been born on Angosia and come to adulthood during the height of the Tarsus Wars. Selected and volunteered for a radical new weapons program, Daggit underwent psychological conditioning and received physiological enhancements. Recrafted into a humanoid "super soldier", Daggit, and those like him, were sent to the front lines. It was because of the efforts of these altered souls that victory was achieved and peace secured.

After the war, the soldiers received a far cooler welcome at home. Having no treatment in place to reverse the conditioning done to the afflicted men and women, there was no counter to their programmed, violent responses to situational stimuli. The authorities' solution was to lock them away on the lunar prison complex. This situation remained unchanged for a decade until a prison break occurred during a visit by the Federation starship _Enterprise_. The _Enterprise _was tasked with a final cultural inspection of Angosia for their bid for Federation membership. The revelation of the existence of Angosian super soldiers and their government's treatment of them put that application on hold until such time as a cure or an accommodation could be found for the afflicted commandos.

That decision was revisited during the Dominion War. The Federation approached Angosia and offered a trade: immediate membership in exchange for the use of the super soldiers. The soldiers were accepted on a voluntary basis, with most choosing to serve. They were placed in commando units specialising in behind the lines operations. This is where Daggit met Macen. Macen served as the intelligence officer and guide to one such unit attached to a fighting force comprised of Maquis survivors.

After the war, Daggit went on to serve aboard the _Enterprise-E_ herself. The _Enterprise _encountered Macen while the Gulag mission was underway. During an encounter between them, harsh words were exchanged, which Daggit came to regret. After the Gulag crisis was resolved, Daggit requested a transfer to Macen's command. It was granted and Daggit had been a member of the SID's Special Unit ever since.

Unlike Macen, Daggit was a bear of a man. His limbs were tree trunks but without sacrificing speed or agility. His age was indeterminate but flecks of grey were appearing in his dark brown hair. His features were rather craggy and haunted but a spark of mischief glowed in his eyes.

"You're certain?" Macen asked.

Daggit nodded once, "I've done harder before."

Macen sombrely nodded, "All right then, that leaves the weapons lab for us."

The teaming up of Macen and T'Kir had occurred years before and had persisted ever since. Shortly after his arrival in the Alpha Quadrant, Macen had joined Starfleet. His skills as a sociologist and historian made him a perfect candidate for a Starfleet Intelligence analyst. After several decades slowly rising through the ranks, Macen made his mark with his insightful analyses of the newly discovered Cardassians.

Macen was sent to the front lines of the ever fluid Border Wars dispute. His time there enabled Starfleet to gain further insights into a hostile mindset. Macen was first initiated into the world of covert operations during this period. Macen was kept in place at the onset of the Cardassian War and once again provided his unique blend of intuitive analysis and special ops.

Macen's methods had drawn the attention of Vice Admiral Alynna Nechayev. She appreciated his ability to think outside the Starfleet mould. His indifference to procedure occasionally proved problematic but she quickly took him under her wing. It was at this time that he was groomed for his next assignment.

The treaty ending the Cardassian War had ceded territory to the Cardassians in the form of a Demilitarised Zone. Many of the affected systems had been colonised by Federation citizens. These same citizens had now formed a militia group dedicated to liberating the newly created DMZ from Cardassian control. The militia group was named the Maquis after the French resistance organisation of Earth's Second World War.

Macen was assigned to infiltrate the Maquis and assume a deep cover within their ranks. As it turned out, Macen's role was perfectly suited to him. He deeply empathised with the Maquis' struggle and threw himself wholeheartedly into the Resistance. His skills as an analyst provided a much needed service to the Ronaran Maquis cell that he'd joined.

The cell was headed by the former Starfleet officer, Ro Laren. Both personally and professionally, Ro and Macen got on famously. Ro became one of the few people that Macen trusted. T'Kir was the other member of the cell to be so honoured.

T'Kir heralded from Shial. This was a frontier world that was later ceded by the Federation. Shial was a colony populated by Romulan defectors and Vulcan dissidents. It was a world devoted to honour, passion, and even logic. Shial had been among the first worlds "cleansed" by the Cardassians after they took possession of the planet.

T'Kir had been off planet attending school. The news of events had brought her back to the DMZ and into the arms of the Maquis. The elevated stress triggered an exponential increase in her telepathic abilities and they quickly spiralled out of control. This soon affected her mental and emotional stability and she teetered on the edge of madness.

Plunging headlong into the passions normally denied a Vulcan and even governed by a Romulan, T'Kir underwent massive mood swings. At wit's end of how to deal with her, Ro transferred T'Kir to Macen's intelligence unit. Macen proved to be a calming influence on the turbulent Vulcan. Although she was unstable, Macen saw a reflection of himself in her. Her loyalty to him proved infectious and he became her staunch, and oft, defender.

The turning point came at the end of the Maquis Resistance. The Jem'Hadar were overrunning the outmatched freedom fighters with no hope of stemming the tide in sight. Ro and Macen were leading their forces out of the Zone. Macen was headed for Federation space, then would meet up with Ro near Bajor. The tremendous losses and mounting stress finally overwhelmed T'Kir. She stabbed Macen with a Romulan Honour Blade that she habitually carried. Macen survived and negotiated the Maquis' surrender to a Starfleet cruiser.

Macen utilised his Starfleet Intelligence credentials to commandeer a shuttle and made his rendezvous with Ro. T'Kir was sent to the famous Andes Psychological Institute for treatment and care. Macen returned to the DMZ, this time with Starfleet commandos and eventually took his first glimpse of Cardassia Prime during the final battle of the Dominion War.

After the war ended and the treaties were signed, Macen was ordered to return to Earth. Once there he learned he was to lead a special team in a prototype ship on a mission to find an internment camp reserved for dissidents from across the Federation. Macen chose to fill the role of Chief Operations Officer with T'Kir. Lacking the time to officially process a possible release, Macen broke her out of the Andes Institute. The rest could be counted on as history.

In addition to their longstanding friendship, the two recently forged ahead into a romantic relationship. They'd discovered, and admitted to, mutual feelings of attraction and desire. They'd also learned that their separate psychoses formed a greater whole when united. They balanced out one another's extremes.

"Ready?" Macen asked.

She grinned, "Are you?"

* * *

"Mission status?" Lisea Danan asked as she strode onto the _Solstice's_ bridge. She moved directly from the turbolift to the command chair in the centre of the space. Unlike the rest of the bridge, closely modelled after the Battle Bridge of the _Galaxy_-class starships, the _Solstice's _command chair was taken from a _Defiant_-class warship. The only other occupant of the bridge was the ship's helmsman, Hannah Grace.

"The infiltration team has just begun their incursion. No reports on their progress yet. No sign of trouble on our end." Grace reported.

"No ships on the horizon?" Danan inquired of the younger woman.

"Nope." Grace grunted, "Not that it'd matter. The cloaking field is holding fine. A Tzenkethi cruiser could drop out of warp right on top of us and we'd still be invisible."

Danan silently shook her head at Grace's unbridled, and somewhat naive, faith in their technological gadgetry. As a scientist, Danan was used to seeing inexplicable phenomena and unplanned for technical snafus. As Macen's former partner, both in his infiltration of the Maquis and in the bedroom, Danan had seen firsthand how often things went wrong when it was the most important for it not to. Sadly, in time, Grace would also share a taste of this knowledge.

For her part, Grace sat at her console all athletically blonde and perky. Danan sighed. She had to alter her own hair from its natural chestnut colour to achieve the shade of blonde she wore. She knew, and had it reinforced by the previous seven lifetimes of her symbiot's hosts, that she shouldn't be jealous but there it was and she simply had to find a way to deal with it. The Trill had a long history of positive self imagery and Danan was determined to uphold this tradition.

Danan tapped the command chair's comm switch, "Bridge to Engineering. How's it going down there Chief?"

"Fine." Came Dracas' usual terse reply.

"Let me know if there's any problems." Danan killed the circuit. You kept things to a minimal with Dracas. It kept him happy.

"What happens if the infiltration team gets caught?" Grace asked suddenly.

_Did you skip the briefing?_ Danan thought but replied with, "Then we beam the team back up and raze the base with photon torpedoes."

"Wouldn't that let them know we were here?"

Danan suddenly had an image of Grace chewing something Dax had referred to, something called _bubblegum_. This wasn't the usual Grace. She seemed distracted by something. Watching her fidget at her post, it was like some internal problem was gnawing at her. Danan hoped it could be resolved swiftly. A distracted pilot could get them all killed.

"Hannah." Danan said softly.

"Hmmm?" Grace continued chewing on her thumbnail.

"I know we haven't known each other long, but I hope you realise that I've sort of become the team's unofficial counsellor. If there's ever something bothering you, well I'd hope you'd feel free to discus it with me."

"S'kay." Grace mumbled as she studied her board.

_Well, I tried._ Danan sighed to herself; _It's up to her to make the next move. _

Danan studied Grace for a moment longer and amended that last thought, _Maybe I'll see what T'Kir knows._

* * *

The beginning of the insertion had proceeded flawlessly. T'Kir's manipulations of the security system allowed them to freely penetrate the perimeter. Now they were inside the base, where Tzenkethi troops stood post and walked the fenceline. It was also the most delicate phase of the mission.

Daggit used a judo chop to stun a passing guard. Radil and Kort each separated from the group and disabled troops standing guard. The three reunited with Macen and T'Kir merely to confirm the completion of the individual tasks before splitting up again.

Daggit headed off alone for the base's main security centre. Radil and Kort aimed for the barracks. There was a guard shack where the guards "hotracked" or completed a shift to be relieved by a replacement who had vacated a bunk that was now open for his or her use. Another barracks building served as the scientists' quarters. Macen and T'Kir proceeded towards the laboratory where they were holding the prototype trilithium device.

Daggit crept up to the security tower. It stood twenty metres tall and had clear views of the entire complex. Luckily, the warren of walkways between the observed buildings created concealing shadows and blinds. Daggit reached the corner of the building he was using for cover and paused. There was a thirty metre "clear" perimeter around the tower's base. This was designed to allow the on duty personnel the opportunity to challenge any approaching bodies.

Daggit studied the guard facing him. The young Tzenkethi routinely surveyed his surroundings before returning his attention to some unknown form of entertainment, but he did it at regular intervals. Daggit was willing to bet he could make it to the base of the tower in the span of one of those intervals.

Daggit took a deep breath, and as the guard looked away, began sprinting. He ran flat out... ten metres... twenty metres... thirty... The alarms sounded and voices began shouting. Daggit cursed and pulled a small cylinder out of his backpack. Dracas had assured him that the device had enough explosive power to crack open a bunker. It should handle this tower. He strapped the bomb to a support strut, set the timer, and began running away.

Daggit ran a careening zigzag pattern while the alerted and angry Tzenkethi guards fired at him. He dove behind the building he'd started from and finished the silent count that had been ticking down in his head. The bomb detonated, shredding the support and throwing the guard station into the air. It all collapsed to the ground in a mangled heap. None of the guards were left alive to molest Daggit further.

Radil was doing a silent countdown with one hand and holding a stun grenade with the other. The alarms went of and she bit down several suggestions that her father had committed unnatural acts with domesticated animals. Waving frantically, she urged Kort to open the doors and throw the grenades anyway. They each lobbed their entire cache of grenades and retreated from the barracks's entrance.

"What in the name of Kahless is going on?" Kort demanded.

"I don't know." Radil admitted, "But one things for sure, we'd sure as hell find out in a hurry."

"Elements!" T'Kir hissed under her breath, "It's no use. The computer locks down the laboratories during a crisis then goes into stand-by."

"Can you restart the system?"

"It's a critical dump." T'Kir explained, "They scram the entire security system. You have to reload a new one in order to regain operational control of the classified areas."

"Damn it." Macen sighed then shrugged, "On to Plan B."

He tapped his comm badge, "Macen to _Solstice_."

"Danan here. Are you all right? A distress signal has been issued from the planet requesting immediate assistance."

"You wouldn't happen to have scrambled that signal would you?" Macen asked hopefully.

"No. Why?"

"No reason." Macen said in a forlorn tone, "We just need an immediate extraction."

"Easily done."

"We also need to decloak, target the base, and pound it into oblivion with photon torpedoes."

"That bad?"

"Yup, that bad."

"We'll beam you up in a minute."

"Looking forward to it."

Macen closed the circuit and glanced over to T'Kir, "Guess we can't win then all."

She hugged him.

"What's that for?"

"For being you."

He returned the hug and waited for the transporter beam to grab them.

Macen entered the bridge and immediately went to stand behind Grace, "What's our status?"

"I've bombarded the base with six photon torpedoes so far. Sensors indicate catastrophic damage."

"Lisea or T'Kir?"

T'Kir plopped down at her Ops station alongside Grace's helm, "Confirmed. All structures appeared to be down and gutted."

"Let's be sure." Macen ordered, "Fire four more torpedoes, then cloak us and plot us a course back across the Federation border."

"Aye, sir." Grace replied.

_Atta girl,_ Danan thought happily, _Just needed some focused activity and attention._

* * *

After the _Solstice _safely crossed the border into Federation space, Macen met with Daggit in his small office attached to his quarters. Daggit looked stiff and uncomfortable.

"Relax Rab." Macen urged, "Just tell me what went wrong?"

"I don't know." Daggit replied haltingly, "I thought I'd made it but then they'd spotted me. In the end it all came down to the simple fact that I wasn't fast enough."

"Thank God." Macen laughed, and seeing Daggit's bewildered expression laughed harder; "You've always been somewhat superhuman. It's reassuring to us mere mortals to discover that you really do have limitations too."

"You're not angry?"

"You tried." Macen told him, "That's all I can ask."

"But we failed!"

"We failed to make it appear to be the work of some unknown insurgent group or terrorists." Macen clarified, "What we did accomplish was our task of destroying the lab and equipment. We may have left some evidence behind that could link it to forces originating in the Federation but nothing that could be tied to Starfleet. We've maintained plausible deniability and that's what the special unit is all about."

"Thank you, sir." Daggit nodded, "I feel better."

"I'm glad." Macen grinned, "Now get back to your post."

"Yessir!" Daggit exited, leaving Macen alone.

_Now,_ he mentally groaned, _just how exactly am I going to explain this to Admiral Drake? _


	2. Chapter 2

28

Commander P'ris stormed out of the Senate subcommittee chamber looking for suitable prey. She stopped amidst the swirling clerks and assistants and her eyes lighted upon Administrator Tarmut. Tarmut wasn't the most powerful civil servant in the Senate halls, but he had been there the longest. It was said that in that time, especially over the course of the war with the Dominion, he had become something of a political moderate.

Regardless of his politics, P'ris began her approach. Even a rejection would speed her on her way to finding an eventual ally. The Tal Shiar had been stripped of much of its former independence. Even the personal credibility of their new Director had not removed the stains of the doomed mission to destroy the Founders and the more recent Gulag fiasco. The Tal Shiar's activities outside Romulan borders were highly scrutinised by the Senate and its contacts with aliens even more so.

The Senate's growing isolationism since the war's end wouldn't lend itself toward the investigation she sought permission for. Even if the operation were not proposed as a joint effort with Starfleet, the intended goal of examining potentially embarrassing Romulan secret relations could easily spell the end of this inquiry before it ever truly began.

P'ris stopped in front of Tarmut and waited for the older man to finish reading his padd. Seconds stretched into minutes and P'ris didn't have much time. She cleared her throat loudly and waited for a reaction. When she received none, she repeated her efforts with even more vigour.

"Anybody ever tell you that you can be annoying?" Tarmut chided her.

"Only when I need an answer and I need it immediately."

"Then you're out of luck. I don't give any answers I haven't mulled over for as long as it took to produce them."

"Please, I need your help." P'ris confessed, "I've tried everyone else. You're the only one left to listen."

Tarmut frowned then sighed, "Very well. Tell me your petition."

* * *

"This time," Admiral Edward Jellico, Chief of Starfleet Operations, crowed; "your ass is in a sling and I own you."

Joining Vice Admiral Alynna Nechayev in her office were Jellico and Amanda Drake. The matter at hand was Macen's report and the operational fallout it had created. Despite any hard evidence, the Tzenkethi were loudly blaming the Federation for the loss of their base and their personnel and were threatening to go to war. It had caused many in the upper echelons in Starfleet to re-examine the SID and its role in the affair.

"Macen and his team don't answer to you, Edward." Nechayev reminded him, "They answer to Amanda here, and even then, only in their role as freelance operatives."

"This is intolerable!" Jellico sputtered, "They're criminals."

"Not true." Drake pointed out, "The Maquis elements in the team have been pardoned and no warrants or charges are outstanding on any other member."

"Except the Klingon." Jellico sneered.

"Kort's exile has been revoked by Chancellor Martok. He simply hasn't seen fit to return to the Klingon Empire as of yet." Drake explained.

"You're all insane." Jellico said in disbelief, "These people violated every regulation and principle we hold dear, almost started a war, and you're still defending them?"

"They're the best we have at what they do." Nechayev declared forcefully, "And what they do isn't pretty. We don't have many replacements ready to fill their shoes and we can't rely upon Section 31 to get the jobs done."

"We can't trust Section 31 period." Jellico muttered in a defeated tone.

"So we're agreed then?" Nechayev asked sharply, "Macen and his team will remain on the SID roster."

"Agreed." Jellico conceded through gritted teeth.

"Good." Nechayev said with some satisfaction, "Now if that's all, I do have other appointments for today."

Jellico's jaw worked as though he were about to say something else, but he bit his tongue and exited the office.

As soon as he was gone, Nechayev buzzed her aide; "Please have Captain Macen join us."

Macen walked in and glanced around, "Is it safe?"

"Eddie's gone. Have a seat." Nechayev replied easily. Although Macen's rank in Starfleet was only that of Commander, he enjoyed a much more equal with relationship with Nechayev. A great deal of it had to do with the fact that he was nearly four hundred years older than she was.

"We already have your next mission outlined." Drake informed him, "Now its just a matter of seeing whether or not the current political realities will allow it to transpire."

"Sounds interesting." Macen nodded, "What is it?"

"The Romulan Tal Shiar has proposed a joint investigative operation to track down these trilithium technical leaks." Drake explained.

"I think I can already see why my team is going to be involved." Macen commented, "Given the post-war tensions with the Romulans its likely that any such co-operative effort will be less than well received. For an off the books mission you need an off the books operations team. Am I warm?"

"Combustible." Nechayev replied, "To add to matters, the Romulan heading this effort requested you by name."

"And who might this be?"

"Commander P'ris. I believe she assisted you during the Gulag mission." Drake recalled.

Macen stifled his surprise, "So what's our cover?"

"You're going in as Starfleet officers." Drake announced, "You'll even be assigned to a starship. Of course, the starship will be a dedicated SID vessel."

"And exactly what position will I serve aboard this ship?" Macen asked a little defensively.

"As the mission commander, I presume that you would command the ship as well. Unless of course you'd prefer to leave any and all shiphandling duties up to your executive officer." Drake smiled.

"What class is she?" Macen asked, excitement lacing his voice.

Nechayev fielded this one; "She's a _Nova_-class survey ship. She's not just any _Nova_ though, she's received performance upgrades as a technology testbed for the upcoming _NovaX_ project."

"Crew?" he asked.

"Slightly reduced over a typical crew roster. More security and less scientific personnel. The scientific staff will be limited to a few key assistants and techs for your team specialists." Drake answered.

"What happens to the _Solstice_ in the meantime?" Macen wondered.

"Your ship and your runabout will remain property of Outbound Ventures, Inc." Drake detailed, "They'll remain in storage until needed."

"You're making it sound as though this transfer will last longer than one mission." Macen observed.

"Things are complicated." Nechayev admitted, "The ship needs a permanent commander. Ideally, Amanda and I would like you for the job. However, there are a lot of politics in the way of that happening. There's also the vital role the special team plays a vital role in what the SID does. Until we can replace your team, or until your group is no longer viable as an asset, we have to keep you in place."

Macen sighed, "Damn."

Drake bit her lip then hesitantly asked, "By the way, how do you think your team will do at playing conventional line officers?"

Macen shrugged, "They should be fine. Daggit, Dracas and Grace only became reserve officers in order to join the special team. Kort's worked for Starfleet Intelligence for years. He should fine."

"I see you're excluding the two we're the most worried about." Nechayev pointed out, "How will T'Kir and Radil Jenrya respond to being put in Starfleet uniform?"

"T'Kir's already worn the colours when she first joined the SID. She'll do again, if only for me. Radil is the only one I'd expect an attitude from. Ever since her cosmetic surgery made her look human, she's been vociferously pro-Bajoran."

"She could have kept her old face," Drake interjected, "and the Orion deathmark that went with it."

"We were partly responsible for her receiving the deathmark, let's not forget that." Macen reminded her, "I don't blame her for being bitter. I know what it's like to be never able to go home. I imagine its worse to be able to go home but have no one recognise you."

"Will she pass muster, yes or no?" Nechayev cut to the chase.

"Yes." Macen answered with as much conviction as he could muster.

"The discussion is ended." Nechayev declared.

"How will I find the ship?" Macen inquired, "I don't even know her name."

"She the _USS Shadow_ and she's right here in Spacedock at slip five." Nechayev announced, "You and your crew are to report to SID headquarters for kitting and standard issue equipment. After that, it's waiting on the Romulans to decide whether or not they want to do this for real or not."

Macen stood and nodded towards Nechayev, "Understood." He turned and nodded towards Drake, "Admiral." With that done, he exited the office.

"Still think he's the one best suited for this mission?" Drake asked Nechayev.

"The Romulans specifically requested him. This mission does not happen without Macen's participation in it." Nechayev rebutted.

"My psychological profilers have raised several red flags concerning Macen's recent behaviours." Drake warned, "They predict he may compromise a mission out of sheer nihilistic frustration with life. It may have happened already during this last mission."

"Tell your profilers to forget everything they know, or think they know, when it regards Macen." Nechayev advised, "Once given a mission, Brin Macen will contort natural laws in order to see it successfully completed. This doesn't stem from any overblown concept of honour nor does it spring from any overwhelming loyalty to us or the Federation. He'll do it to make a difference. All Macen seeks is the chance to change the universe for the better. It's as simple, and as complicated, as that."

"You're gambling a lot upon that assessment." Drake commented.

"It's not an assessment, its fact. I've known that man for over thirty years now. His actions may continue to surprise me, but his principles are as unchanging and unflinching as they ever were."

"I hope so." Drake replied glumly.

"Trust me." Nechayev flashed her a smile that hid as much as it revealed.

* * *

"It is done." Tarmut informed P'ris, "Your motion as been carried to the Senate floor."

"By which Senator may I ask?"

"A stripling from the Outer Marches." Tarmut answered, "He's young but he believes your cause is just and is still naive enough to motivated by such factors."

P'ris sighed wearily, "What hope have I then?"

Tarmut patted her on the shoulder, "Never fear. I gave him some advice. Things may yet come to pass."

"My time is short and my need is great." P'ris entreated him, "The Empire's need is great."

"Then let us hope wisdom will prevail today."

* * *

"Okay," T'Kir demanded, hands on her hips; "how could you let this happen?"

"Let what happen?" Macen asked in confusion.

"We're going in as Starfleet officers? I thought I told you I never wanted to wear that uniform again."

"You only wore it for a few months." He reminded her.

"The worst few months of my life." She huffed.

"You know what the problem is? You're too used to playing the rebel. You have it so ingrained that you're the Maquis rebel squaring off against the Federation and the Cardassians that you can't move past it."

"You want to know you're problem?" she squared her shoulders and got into his face, "You're too used to playing the spy and going where your told to and becoming what your told to. You don't remember who you really are."

"Do you really want to fight about this?" Macen asked in a steely voice.

"Maybe I do." T'Kir shot back.

"Is that what you really think of me?"

T'Kir hesitated. She hesitated not only to weigh her answer but also to measure the menace in Macen's tone. Their relationship hung in the balance here. Macen could, and was ready to, end things depending upon her response.

"No." She admitted, "It's a concern sometimes. I hate watching Drake and Nechayev yank you around simply because they know they can. I hate that they use your principles against you."

"Well," Macen replied, softening up; "You should be glad they yanked me around when they assigned me to infiltrating the Maquis. I not only met you there, I think I was more myself there then anytime following the assimilation of my world."

T'Kir moved up close to Macen and snuggled into him. He put his arms around her as she looked up at him; "I forgive them for that, but not the rest."

She rested her head on his chest as he chuckled, "I'll be sure to tell them that."

"Good." She huffed.

* * *

The various Senators exited from the Senate floor in an orderly fashion. When they had all vacated the august hall, the clerks followed in their wake. Tarmut was among the first to leave. He headed straight for an anxious P'ris.

"Well?" she demanded breathlessly.

"The official pronouncement has yet to be drafted, but your motion has passed milady." The elder Romulan revealed.

"Thank the Elements." P'ris breathed, "Now to get things underway. Thank you old man. You have the gratitude of the Tal Shiar. We will not forget."

"I'm counting on it." Tarmut smiled and waved her on.

* * *

Macen awoke to find that T'Kir was already up. He groggily exited the bedroom of the guest quarters he and T'Kir were sharing. He found her watching a news channel feed. The news anchor was announcing a breaking story.

"We bring you the latest footage from the Aurelius Observatory, located near Deep Space 5." the Announcer described, "These images illustrate the total and unexpected collapse of the solar primary in the Izbexa system. It may be noted that over the last twenty years the Izbexans have successfully thwarted the forced annexation of the system by the nearby Tribbian Empire. Those efforts, and the brave sacrifices made for that cause, have ended in tragedy today."

"As can be seen by the incoming footage, the star has gone nova. Izbexa and her eleven sister planets are now destroyed by the shockwave caused by the star's destruction. Scientists have no explanation for this sudden disaster. Previous estimates had placed the star's lifespan in excess of twenty million years. Astronomers the Federation over will be recalculating stellar life expectancies."

"Bummer, huh?" T'Kir asked between sips of her coffee.

Macen fetched himself a cup and joined her on the sofa, "There's only one explanation for this, and it's entirely humanoid made."

"Trilithium?" she asked.

"Yup. Somebody gave, or sold, it to the Tribbians." Macen grimaced, "They're a bunch of ruthless fanatics. I wonder who'd be insane enough to put such a powerful weapon in their hands?"

"I wonder if we'll get assigned to the case?" T'Kir mused aloud.

"I doubt it." Macen reflected, "Nechayev and Drake are pretty set on us undertaking this Romulan mission."

"That could be fun too." She grinned.

"Now that you're stable and sane, or at least as much as you'll ever be," she stuck her tongue out at him, "I'll need your counsel on this one. I've never dealt with Romulans. The longest I've worked with them was back during the Gulag mission when we first met P'ris."

"Are you suggesting that just because my stepfather was a Romulan and because I came from a colony founded by Romulan defectors that I would know something about Romulans?" she asked irritably, "That I myself may be some sort of Romulan collaborator?"

"I'd never thought of that, but now that you mention it...ow!"

"That's for calling me a collaborator, you ingrate. You should be grateful to have my vast wealth of knowledge at your disposal."

"I was before you hit me."

"Keep this up and I'll hit you again."

The door chime interrupted them, "Now what?" T'Kir muttered.

Macen answered the door to find Danan standing in the hall, "Have you heard about Izbexa? It has to trilithium. I surveyed that system myself not six months ago and it was stable."

"Calm down. I already saw it and drew the same conclusions." Macen assured her.

"Good." She bit her lip, "I see you're not dressed yet but can I come in?"

"Sure."

"Why not?" T'Kir murmured under her breath, "Why not invite the whole station?"

"Morning, T'Kir." Danan said cheerfully.

T'Kir gave her a wan smile in reply.

"How can we help you?" Macen asked.

Danan chewed on her lip for a moment before answering, "I don't need help per se, I need assurance."

"Of what?" Macen sat down.

"That my decision to return to the team was the correct one. That my skills aren't being ignored or wasted." She explained.

"Lees, you not only _the _scientific expert for the team but you're operating as the acting executive officer." Macen replied, "Quite frankly, I don't see how your skills could be utilised to any greater degree."

"That being said, was my return a mistake?"

"No." T'Kir answered for him, "You've said it yourself, your time with the Maquis and in covert ops had left you dissatisfied with a life of pure research. You're just having a few doubts. Trust me, I can see what's going on in your head and you're just having a case of the jitters."

Danan started at the revelation that T'Kir had telepathically probed her but Macen intervened before she could say anything, "I hope we've been helpful. If you need anything else, feel free to ask."

Sensing Macen's dismal, Danan nodded and rose, "Thank you but that should be all for now."

After she'd departed, Macen turned to T'Kir, "That was kind of rude."

"What'd I do?" T'Kir asked, throwing her hands in the air.

"You probed Lisea without her permission." Macen explained.

"So?" T'Kir questioned, "I've always probed people without their permission. It never seemed to bother anyone before."

"That was before you had your telepathy under control." Macen clarified, "The rules changed once you reined your abilities in."

"No one told me about it." She retorted.

Macen grimaced, "We all assumed it had been covered as part of your upbringing."

"My mother died shortly after I hit adolescence." T'Kir revealed, "My stepfather was a Romulan. He didn't know enough about Vulcan telepathic practices to teach me anything."

"Sorry. I'd never asked. I'd just assumed..."

"The danger of assumptions," T'Kir interrupted, "is that they're rarely right."

Macen had to ponder that one and admitted that she was right.

.


	3. Chapter 3

43

Later that morning Starfleet received word from the Romulan embassy that the joint operation was a go. The "cultural attaché" hand delivered the waiver that would allow Starfleet Intelligence to send one of their vessels across the Neutral Zone. It was a historic and unprecedented event.

Macen and his team boarded the _USS Shadow _one hour after confirmation of the Romulan waiver. Lt. Commander Ekaterina Chekova, the ship's 1st Officer, met them at the boarding dock. Chekova held her rail thin body stiffly at attention with eyes forward and mouth closed. With her was an honour guard replete with dress uniforms and phaser rifles.

"Commander, if I'd known our coming aboard was an occasion, I'd have dressed for it." Macen joked. That received a few stoic blinks in reply. He sighed then began issuing orders, "Company, stand at ease. In fact, you're all dismissed. Thank you for coming, but the show's over."

The confused security officers milled about for a moment but then T'Kir began shooing them away. Through it all, Chekova remained perfectly still, with the same blank expression affixed on her face. Macen studied her for a moment then shook his head. He conferred with T'Kir for a moment then returned his attention to Chekova.

"Commander, I'm willing to bet a dozen bars of gold pressed latinum that you rose through the ranks during the recent war." The merest flicker in her eyes told him it was true, "I'd also wager that that same war has made quite an impression on you. Let me impress upon you that it has not made the same impression upon me. Starfleet's military role is its secondary function. Exploration and research are Starfleet's top priorities and will be reflected as such throughout the fleet even aboard a vessel such as this. This ship may not engage in the usual fare of scientific surveys but her missions are designed with peaceful intentions in mind. There will not be a repeat of the heavy handed display of force that I saw upon coming aboard during my time here, am I clear?"

Only now did Chekova stir, "Aye, aye, sir."

"Good." Macen subsided, "Have a yeoman show us to our quarters. Afterwards we'll meet you on the bridge. I'd like to debrief you at that time in the Captain's Ready Room."

"Aye, sir." Chekova snapped off smoothly, "Looking forward to it."

"Then I'll see you then." Macen dismissed her.

After Chekova was out of earshot, T'Kir moved up alongside him, "She doesn't like you."

Macen gave her a look and she held up her hands, "Hey, she was throwing the thoughts out there. I'd have to be mindblind not to 'hear' them."

"I'll see what I can do about mollifying her at our debriefing." Macen offered.

"Good boy." T'Kir patted his shoulder.

"Arff." Macen retorted.

* * *

The team members reported to the bridge after stowing their gear. Macen and T'Kir were the last to arrive. The circular design of the _Shadow's _bridge was in direct contrast to the semi-conical shape of the _Solstice's _bridge. In the forefront of everything, directly in front of the viewer, was the helm. Grace was already there personalising the controls. The rest of the duty stations were arranged along the circular bulkheads. Daggit was at Tactical and T'Kir proceeded straight for Ops. Danan was belowdecks in Astrometrics. Kort was terrorising the medical staff. Dracas was making himself at home already in Engineering.

The command chair was actually two seats connected by a common workstation. It could mirror any control station on the ship or be defaulted to a situation board. Chekova had disappeared into the Ready Room upon Macen's appearance on the bridge. Now was the time to brief her on the mission parameters. Hopefully he could heal the instant rift that had formed between them.

Upon entering the Ready Room, Macen was pleased to see that the tightly wound Chekova had managed to change out of her dress uniform at least. She was primly seated at one of the two chairs positioned in front of the CO's desk. The Ready Room wasn't very large and was closely modelled along the lines of those aboard an _Intrepid_-class starship. It was cosy without losing its formality.

"Listen Commander, I know we got off to a bad start." Macen offered as he sat down on the corner of the desk. He could sense it was all Chekova could do not to wince, "I'd like to amend that."

"That won't be necessary, sir." Chekova replied emotionlessly as she offered him a padd, "I'm prepared to offer my resignation as 1st Officer and put in for an immediate transfer."

Macen's lips thinned, "I can accept your stepping down as 1st Officer but I can't allow you to transfer off this ship. I need you to stay on as 2nd Officer."

"If I may ask," she said stiffly, "why is that?"

"You know the crew and the ship." Macen answered frankly, "I could see changing the commanding officer or the executive officer but not both without retaining a support officer with existing relationships with the crew. They'd feel adrift otherwise. Also, a visible show of support from that same officer would go along way to building a bridge between the crew and the new command staff. I'd prefer to keep you on as exec but ultimately that's your choice to make."

He let her mull that one over in silence. Finally, after several minutes, she spoke; "All right, I'll stay on as 1st Officer but I'd like to clarify a few things first."

"Feel free." Macen gave her an ingratiating smile.

"First off, I may have been promoted during the war but so were a lot of junior officers." Chekova declared hotly, "Secondly, my experiences in the war may have moulded me somewhat but that doesn't mean I'm a pre-emptive warmonger now. I lost a lot of friends to the Dominion and I don't want to lose any more for a lack of preparedness. Starfleet was far more militant a century ago and its scientific and exploration efforts did not suffer for it."

She took a deep breath before plunging on, "And thirdly, I don't want to be lectured on the proper role of Starfleet by a man that's lived outside the rules and regulations binding the rest of us. I've heard all about your 'special unit'. Your complete disregard for even the spirit of Starfleet protocols is a disgrace for all of us still wearing the uniform." She paused then added an emphatic, "Sir!"

Macen studied her for a moment. As he'd noted before, she was painfully thin. Her face was long and lean, dominated by Slavic cheekbones. Her blue eyes were framed by black eyebrows that belied the authenticity of her shoulder length platinum tresses. These doubts were doubled by the hint of dark roots lining her part. She had a long nose that turned upwards at the tip and a full mouth. Macen concluded that she would be very pretty if her attitude would soften up.

_Gaining at least twenty pounds wouldn't hurt either_, he mused inwardly.

"Well said, Commander. That couldn't have been easy." Macen retained his smile, "I think you'll discover we're not actually scofflaws, if you give us a chance."

She responded with the barest of nods, "Perhaps."

"It's a start at least." He shrugged then moved behind the desk and sat down, "Now down to business."

"I thought you'd keep it between your officers." Chekova admitted.

Macen shook his head, "That doesn't make sense. If something were to happen to me, then command of this vessel falls to you. You have to know what the stakes are."

"What would happen to your investigative team?" she asked.

"Command would fall to Commander Danan and she'd carry on to the best of her formidable ability." Macen informed her, "See why I prefer having you stay on as exec?"

Chekova responded with a hesitant smile, "I see."

"Our mission is complex in its simplicity. We're to enter the Romulan Neutral Zone and rendezvous with a ship operated by the Tal Shiar. Once we've done so, we're to conduct a joint investigation into the illegal transfers of trilithium technology."

Chekova whistled in disbelief, "Is that all?"

"Those are the basics."

"But why?" Chekova asked the obvious question, "Why a joint operation and why now?"

"I've only had one night to peruse the files regarding events up to this point but here's the gist of things: The Romulans were fed technical specifications on trilithium based weaponry by Tolian Soran. His death cut off their access to the data but they were far enough along to complete a working model on their own. Starfleet was able to reconstruct Soran's system from the files recovered from his base on Veridian III. In a rarity for interstellar politics, the destruction of the Armagosa star convinced both the Empire and the Federation that such weapons were ill conceived. Working at a level of co-operation unseen since the war, the two powers worked to guarantee that they alone possessed the technology and that safeguards were in place to prevent its use."

"The Romulans have been working with us all this time?" Chekova shook her head, "I wouldn't have guessed."

"The system of checks and balances worked... for a short time. Soon second and third rate powers, powers technologically far behind the Empire and the Federation, began to acquire trilithium components and secrets. The Romulans accused the Federation of the leak and demanded an inspection of our secure storage facilities. The President herself acquiesced and the Romulans left with the bitter knowledge that the leak was from within their own borders."

"So why call us?" Chekova wondered, "Why not let the Tal Shiar deal with it internally?"

"Most of them want to, especially their Director Koval." Macen admitted, "But cooler heads prevailed. The Tal Shiar's power was severely trimmed after the attack on the Founders' homeworld. Plus, no one knows how far the corruption spreads. The technology transfers couldn't have happened without the Tal Shiar's knowledge. They need a neutral second party to verify their findings... and that leads to us."

"So why this ship and your team?"

"I'm not certain about the ship and crew. Mostly I think it's a matter of availability. As far as my team gores, the leader of the Tal Shiar team knows us and requested our presence."

"Oh." Chekova had obviously been hoping for another reply.

"What d'you say Commander? Ready to save civilisation?" Macen teased.

"Is it really that important?" her eyes grew a little wider.

"We're preventing people from gaining the ability to blow up stars at leisure." Macen replied, "I'd say that's important." He grinned suddenly, "Relax Commander, my team and I do this all the time."

Chekova still looked slightly ashen as Macen led her to the bridge.

* * *

"_USS Shadow_, this is Starfleet Operations. You are cleared for Spacedock and system departure. You may proceed at your discretion." Came the efficient sounding voice over the bridge loudspeakers.

"T'Kir, clear all moorings." Macen ordered.

"Moorings cleared. All umbilicals withdrawn and docking clamps disengaged. We are free and clear to navigate." T'Kir reported happily.

"Grace, take us out at one-quarter impulse."

"But sir..!" Chekova yelped.

"Trust me." Macen grinned, "She's the best."

"But regulations clearly..."

"Aren't meant for a mission of our importance." Macen interjected, "The Admiralty wants to report to the rendezvous point with all due haste. I'm just getting hasty a little sooner than they expected."

"Yes, sir." Chekova subsided but was clearly unhappy.

T'Kir stifled an urge to laugh. Macen had negotiated an uneasy truce with Chekova but he clearly hadn't won her over. From the snatches T'Kir was getting from her surface thoughts, the seemingly repressed young officer was on the verge of mutiny. Seeing as how the mission had only been underway for less than five minutes, that could prove problematic down the road.

T'Kir remembered when she was Macen's largest headache. Those had been turbulent times. She'd never known who she was or what she about to do next. She was getting a sense of the same turmoil within Chekova.

T'Kir wondered what she could do to help the Lt. Commander. T'Kir had required medication, which she still took daily, and months of therapy to reach a semblance of normality. In the end, she'd come as far as she had because of the support of one man, Brin Macen. His belief in her, even when she'd doubted herself, had enabled her to reach where she was today.

That still didn't solve the problem of what to do about Chekova. Perhaps she'd discuss it with Danan. The Trill had seemed to adopt the role of team counsellor. Seeing as how one of her previous hosts had been a counsellor, it seemed a natural progression.

Her other concern was for Hannah Grace. Her friend was troubled and she wasn't talking. Despite her nearly flawless execution of the departure from Spacedock, it had been far below her usual standards. Danan had briefly mentioned trying to talk to Hannah but receiving only a cursory acknowledgement of her words. Perhaps she'd have better luck; after all, Hannah was her closest friend.

T'Kir noticed a shadow lingering over her displays and swivelled her chair towards the centre of the room to get a better look. Macen was standing alongside her station, wearing a dopey grin.

"What d'you think?"

"Of what?" she asked, all innocence and naiveté.

"This ship." He answered excitedly.

"I like ours." T'Kir answered, "The one we _own_. The one that suits our cover."

"You're right of course." His mood deflated a bit, "Our ship is more practical but this one has some toys I'd dearly like to keep."

"Tell Dracas." T'Kir suggested, "He's always on the prowl for new improvements to make."

Macen brightened, "Good idea. I might get a new sensor suite out of this yet. Of course, it all depends on what improvements the Advanced Starship Design Bureau has to offer."

"Never give up hope." She said with mock cheerfulness.

"Seems I recall telling you that on more than one occasion."

She gave him a raspberry.

"How'd you like a break from that station?" he suggested.

"I've barely been here thirty minutes." She replied in disbelief, "I can't believe you want to break in the mattress so soon. Normally you're all work before pleasure."

He grinned sheepishly, "I am this time too. I want to start going over Starfleet Intelligence's reports on the trilithium situation and match them up against what little the Romulan government and the Tal Shiar have given us."

"So do it." T'Kir replied, "_You're_ the intelligence officer."

"Yes, but you're my Romulan advisor. I need you to go over the reports as well and give me your opinion regarding what you see happening, or lack thereof."

"Fine." She sighed, "But I'd rather break in the mattress."

"That'll be our reward for reviewing the files."

"Yum!" she beamed.

* * *

Hours later, they were still at it.

"Elements, I'm bored." T'Kir groaned as she tossed aside the padd she'd been reading.

"Can't stop now." Macen muttered, focused on his own padd.

"Oh yes, I can." T'Kir's eyes blazed defiantly, "I was promised some... recreational exercise and I'm collecting... now." The last word was a growl.

Macen continued his reading so T'Kir crawled toward him on hands and knees like a hunting _sehlat_. When she reached him she reared up and ripped his padd out of his hands. As he started to protest, she grabbed the sides of his face and planted her lips fiercely on his. The kiss lingered then broke apart.

Breathless, Macen asked; "So now what?"

T'Kir's reply was a feral smile. She pulled at him and he rose out of his chair and followed her to the bed. She reclined on the mattress and beckoned for him to pursue. He lowered himself atop her and their bodies melted together. Instinct swiftly took over and banished all conscious thought from the room.

* * *

Later, as they were gathering their strewn about clothing, T'Kir released a contented sigh; "Now that was relaxing."

"Wasn't it though?" Macen grinned, "I hadn't realised how much I needed that release until now."

"Told ya." T'Kir teased with great satisfaction, "Next time just listen to me."

"And now you'll tell me what's on your mind."

"Meaning what?"

"C'mon, don't play coy. You know our telepathic rapport strengthens during the close proximity of sex. Something was on your mind."

"Besides 'don't stop'?" she laughed.

"Yes." His tone grew serious.

"What d'you think of Chekova?"

"I think she's wound a little tight but she can come around." Macen answered as he retrieved his trousers from the floor.

"I think she's strung tighter than you think." T'Kir bit her lip, "This afternoon, she considered relieving you of command over the traffic restrictions inside of Spacedock. That doesn't bode well for the smooth handling of our already somewhat murky mission."

"Murky how?"

"This marks the first time the Tal Shiar and Starfleet have worked together. That didn't occur even during the war. There's going to be a lot of ambiguity and improvising. Chekova doesn't strike me as someone who can accept our unorthodox methodology."

"Congratulations," Macen grinned, "you've just completed your first intelligence assessment."

"But it was on our own side!" T'Kir shouted in exasperation.

Macen shrugged, "You can't honestly evaluate how someone else can harm you until you evaluate your own weaknesses."

"This sucks."

"Welcome to my life."

"No wonder you're so _frinxing _paranoid."

He shrugged again, "I try. Ready for bed?"

"Only if you're up for another round of recreational exercises." She grinned as she made the ultimatum.

He grinned, "I'm sure I could be persuaded."

* * *

On the bridge, Ekaterina Chekova fumed. Starfleet was supposed to have sent someone, anyone, other than the renegade currently in command of the _Shadow_. She, and the crew, had been betrayed. Macen had said that he would work with her but that had ended before they even left Spacedock. It was up to her to protect the crew and, if necessary, apprehend Macen and his team as they betrayed every principle that Starfleet and the Federation held sacred.

Lieutenant Soorik relieved Chekova and she headed for her quarters and a night of sleep. Along the way, she decided to stop by the Crew's Lounge. There she was met by the sight of a massive drinking party underway led by the SID Klingon doctor. Kort and Radil were taking turns in leading the various techs and crewmen in drinking songs about ancient Klingon battles and Bajoran campaigns against the Cardassian occupation. The sight of the debauchery sickened her.

She tapped her comm badge, "Chekova to Security."

"Daggit here."

"Report to the Crew's Lounge with a full detail, Commander. There's a small riot underway."

"Understood. Daggit out."

Now here was a member of Macen's team that Chekova could appreciate. He'd displayed nothing but military discipline and precision since his arrival aboard ship. As he arrived minutes later leading an armed detachment, Chekova's fears that he wouldn't intervene on his comrades' "fun" dissipated. This man was all business.

"Kort and Radil?" he asked bleakly.

Chekova nodded.

"Leave it to me, Ma'am." Daggit turned to the Security detail, "Wait here unless they overwhelm me."

With that said, Daggit proceeded on alone. Chekova found herself going weak at the knees. Daggit muscled his way through the gathered crowd until he was centre stage with his two inebriated teammates. Daggit gave them each a reprooving glare then began to address the crowd.

"All right, shake it off. You've been swilling synthehol so you're not really intoxicated." Seeing that his words were being obeyed, he pressed on; "You're all to report to your quarters and enjoy a nice restful evening before returning to duty tomorrow."

There was some grumbling but the milling crowd dispersed. Radil and Kort lingered and Daggit superimposed himself between them and the drink replicator.

"That includes you two."

Both looked inclined to protest but Daggit's expression dissuaded them.

"The Captain will hear about this." Kort vowed.

"I'm sure he will." Daggit just avoided patronising Kort, "But it'll be in the morning. He's in his quarters for the night."

"He'll be awake." Kort argued, "That little tart T'Kir will see to that."

Daggit looked to Radil, "Let me guess, something other than synthehol?"

She nodded, "Bloodwine."

"Can you get him to his quarters or do you need assistance?"

"I can manage."

"Take care of him."

Radil smiled gratefully, "Thanks."

"Good evening then." Daggit nodded once and exited the Lounge. He found Chekova waiting for him with her arms crossed across her chest.

"Is that all?" she demanded.

"There was no riot." Daggit replied simply, "They weren't even disorderly. Quite frankly, I don't see on what grounds they were dispersed."

"They were dispersed on my authority." Chekova informed him somewhat defiantly.

"I leave it to you then." Daggit told her, "Discipline is a matter for the 1st Officer, not the Head of Security."

"I'm glad we agree." She hesitated then added, "Thank you, by the way, for your actions."

"Simply doing my duty." Daggit gave her a polite nod, "If there isn't anything else, I'm scheduled to be relieved."

"Yes, of course." Chekova refocused, "Dismissed."

Daggit turned but then Chekova called after him, "Commander, may I ask... what did you do during the war?"

"I served in a commando unit performing covert operations behind the lines."

"I see." She pondered that than waved him off, "Sorry. It's late and I'm tired. You really are dismissed this time."

"Ma'am." Another nod.

As he strode away, Chekova thought to herself, _Be still my heart. This one has potential._


	4. Chapter 4

57

The voyage to the Neutral Zone passed without further incident. Chekova had restricted everyone involved in the drinking party to work or quarters for twenty-four hours. Macen let the matter pass without comment. The crew was severely unhappy with the 1st Officer and she needed to discover that on her own. If she continued unabated then he would interfere but he wanted to give natural selection a try first.

So far the approach had worked. The crew had decided not to test Chekova's rather prickly whim and had opted to focus on their duties instead in order to stave off another round of punishments. It was not an ideal environment but it seemed to be working. Macen had requested that Chekova remain on as 1st Officer, he wouldn't interfere in her handling of the ship and crew unless it were vital to do so. Feelings had been bruised but nothing irreparable had occurred... yet.

The _Shadow _and her crew poised to become the first Starfleet vessel since the _USS Bellephoron_ to enter the Neutral Zone with the Romulans' permission. They had merely stopped to await the arrival of their Romulan escort. They hadn't had to wait long before a _D'deridex_-class warbird decloaked on the other side of the Zone. Several moments passed before the warbird attempted to hail the _Shadow_.

Daggit routed the call to the main viewer. A confident looking woman appeared on screen. Her hairstyle deviated from Romulan Orthodox norms, it was worn to the shoulder and had no bangs. It was held out of her face by a metal clip. As before, Macen found Commander P'ris of the Tal Shiar to be a formidable, and attractive, woman.

"Commander Macen, so nice to see you again." P'ris gave him a guarded smile.

"The pleasure is mine, Commander." Macen exchanged pleasantries.

"The situation must be grace for Starfleet to reactivate your commission for this errand."

"Your insistence motivated them." Macen wondered why the sudden verbal sparring had begun. Was she verifying his identity?

"My wisdom has been questioned." P'ris warned, "Others said you were of a far too... _mercenary_ outlook to be of any assistance to us."

Macen began to get an inkling of where this was going, "Are they doubting my ability?"

"Just your loyalties." P'ris answered, "Personally, I think your present role as a privateer 'consultant' for Starfleet provides the perfect cover for covert operations. Those that I have mentioned believe the Federation lacks the subtlety or the guile to run such a... deliberate stratagem."

P'ris' insight had allowed her to penetrate the true nature of the special unit. Fortunately, it was all speculation. Even at the zenith of its power and influence, the Tal Shiar had possessed limitations to its ability to collect data. Those limitations still applied, protecting the SID's secret for that much longer.

"Enough fishing." Macen decided, "Have you verified my identity so we can get down to business?"

P'ris allowed herself a small smile, "Astute as ever, Commander. Very well, we can proceed. If your vessel will come alongside mine, we can get underway. My helm officer will contact yours regarding course and speed."

"Sounds excellent."

"If I may, without being to forward, inquire as to transporting over to your vessel so that we may confer in person."

"I don't see where that's a problem." Macen replied.

Chekova cut the audio feed, "Captain, no! She's a Romulan. We can't take a chance of her seeing the prototype technology integrated into the _Shadow_."

Macen stared her down, "This particular Romulan happens to be our ally in this particular mission. That means we'll working closely together and accommodating one another with every courtesy. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Came her reply through gritted teeth.

Macen reactivated the audio, "Sorry about that Commander. I'll have my transporter chief co-ordinate your arrival."

"That would be agreeable. I look forward to our reunion."

"As do I." The screen returned to its usual starfield. Macen rose from his seat.

"Commander Chekova, you have the bridge. T'Kir, you're with me."

T'Kir hit the button her console that summoned the relief and rose from her place. She and Macen entered the turbolift together.

"She was close to losing it again." T'Kir primly informed him.

"Scanning her again?" he asked wearily.

"Just her surface thoughts." T'Kir admitted, "She's a reactor waiting to meltdown. She's on the knife's edge, Brin. I don't think it's safe to leave her in a position of authority."

"I doubt Starfleet would allow her to remain aboard if she were considered a threat to the ship's safety." Macen opined.

"This ship doesn't have a ship's counsellor." T'Kir informed him.

"Maybe I'll have Danan talk with her." Macen suggested.

"Too little too late." T'Kir vetoes the idea.

"What do you suggest then?" he asked in exasperation.

"I don't know." She admitted in frustration, "I just know what I know. That woman's unstable... and you should remember, I _know_ unstable."

"I seem to recall something to that effect." He tried to hide a smile.

"Wipe that smirk off your face before I remove it for you." T'Kir sternly warned.

The turbolift stopped and its doors opened. Macen motioned for T'Kir to step out ahead of him.

"You don't have to be so old fashioned." She sighed.

"Who said anything about being polite?" Macen asked, "I merely like the view."

T'Kir stopped and looked at her rear. A green flush crept into her cheeks and she stuck out her tongue at Macen. Macen grinned and winked at her. He then stepped around her and proceeded on his way to the transporter room.

T'Kir cursed and followed. She joined Macen in the Transporter Room. Dracas was present as well. He'd opted to handle the beam over himself.

"It's time." Dracas announced and unlocked the transporter controls. He monitored his systems as the Romulans received transport co-ordinates. Moments later, a green halo of energy appeared on the transporter pads. This energy pattern coalesced into Commander P'ris.

P'ris took a moment to survey her surroundings before stepping down from the pad. She smiled warmly as she approached Macen.

"It does my heart good to see you are well, Commander." She intoned with sincerity; "I have followed your career with some interest since our last encounter."

"I wish I could honestly say the same." Macen admitted, "My departure from Starfleet's active forces has limited my ability to track specific individuals."

"Oh, of that, I am quite certain." P'ris wore an enigmatic smile as she replied. She turned her attention to T'Kir, "You must be T'Kir. I understand you have been a bosom companion to Commander Macen since your days in the Maquis. I regret the failure of your noble cause. The Tal Shiar would have provided assistance if not for our arrangement with the Obsidian Order in preparation for our attack on the Founders."

"Too bad, maybe you would have had better success with us than you did with the Founders." T'Kir quipped.

P'ris ignored the barb, "I understand you were born and raised on Shial. Did you have close contact with any of the Romulans living there?"

"My stepfather was a Romulan expatriate." T'Kir's voice went even and quiet, two dangerous signs.

P'ris nodded and turned to Dracas, "And this must be Hal Dracas."

Macen gave Dracas a prompting stare and the Chief nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

"And where is that lovely Trill woman that accompanied you to my ship?" P'ris inquired, "I gathered last time that she was far more than a fellow officer."

"Lisea Danan is aboard," Macen answered, "and as far as anything else goes, times change."

"Paving the way for you." P'ris suggested to T'Kir, "Or have you already filled that vacancy?"

"Listen, "if you have something to say, or a problem with me, let's have it out right now." T'Kir replied hotly, "I for one am sick to death of your little games and innuendoes."

P'ris laughed in delight, "Well done. You do have the heart of a Romulan. I can speak freely in front of you. Forgive my tests. I knew of no other way to evaluate your mettle."

"If we're done with the tests, then maybe we can proceed to my Ready Room and discuss the mission particulars?" Macen suggested.

"Agreed." P'ris nodded in assent.

"Only if she behaves." T'Kir warned.

"You have my oath." P'ris vowed.

That satisfied T'Kir, "Let's go then."

After they exited, Dracas shook his head grimly, "Hardcase 1st Officer, Romulans, and T'Kir... what the hell have we gotten ourselves into to?"

* * *

"How could you do it, old man?" Valrik demanded, "How could allow that bitch's proposal come to a vote before the Senate?"

"There was little chance that it would pass." Tarmut replied calmly. He'd served in the Imperial Senate for over a century now. There was little ruffled him.

"P'ris is good, too damned good. She could actually uncover our operation." Valrik muttered to himself.

"What operation is that?" Tarmut asked nonchalantly.

Valrik chuckled darkly, "No, old man. I'm not giving you any information. You're bound to my associates and I and it will stay that way."

"My nephew has done nothing." Tarmut argued once again, "He should be released."

"Your foolish nephew became associated with that accursed Vulcan's reunification movement. He is being held as a traitor. Only your co-operation spares his life. He will be released if, and when, you are no longer of value to us."

Tarmut prayed that day would come soon. If Commander P'ris were able to disrupt, or even capture, his tormentors then he would be able to capitalise on the debt of honour between them in order to get his nephew freed. Having long ago deduced what Valrik and his associates were up to; it had been his hope and plan along.

* * *

As Macen, T'Kir and P'ris traversed the bridge to get to the Ready Room, Chekova graced them with a relentless glare. As the entered the sanctity of the captain's office, P'ris made a comment regarding Chekova's scrutiny.

"I am beginning to think that your 1st Officer does not appreciate me or my presence aboard this vessel."

"I'm afraid my 1st Officer does not appreciate many things," Macen confided, "including how fortunate she is to have this posting during this particular mission."

"Yes." P'ris mused, "Careers will be made or shattered during our time together."

"Speaking of careers," T'Kir interjected, "the last time we saw you, you were setting up a colony for dissidents. What happened? How'd you get here?"

"That particular assignment was intended as a punishment." P'ris smiled conspiratorially, "However, thanks to your unexpected arrival and revelation of the Gulag, I was able to trace the involvement of no less than five regional governors with the founders of the Gulag. I received a citation from the Praetor himself and was transferred to this case."

"Which, I take it, brings us to now?" Macen sought clarification.

"After months of painstaking effort, yes." P'ris supplied.

"Perhaps we could begin with your providing an accounting of what your investigation has uncovered so far, with an emphasis on who your primary suspects are." Macen suggested.

P'ris cocked an eyebrow and Macen added, "The information provided by the Tal Shiar was less than... thorough."

P'ris chuckled wryly, "We at the Tal Shiar are used to being less than forthcoming. Transparency is a concept that is foreign to us."

"It's a damned nuisance is what it is." T'Kir griped.

"I agree that it can be given a situation such as this." P'ris agreed, "Perhaps in our exploration of uncharted territory we will forge new pathways to prevent such an occurrence should the need arise."

"Huh?" T'Kir cocked her head to one side, "Mind saying that in English?"

"Perhaps we'll forge permanent ties that will prevent a repeat of the mistakes made thus far."

"Why didn't you just say that to begin with?" T'Kir grumbled, "Bloody Tal Shiar agents, always have to try and turn a phrase."

P'ris gave her a rueful smile, "I'll try and refrain."

T'Kir's only reply was a derisive snort.

"I must admit, I expected some hostility from members of the crew." P'ris admitted, "But I confess I didn't expect such a frigid reception from you. You were raised amongst my kind, surely you have a greater respect for their memory than this."

"I honour their memory." T'Kir replied coldly, "What I don't honour, or appreciate, is your position and the agency that you represent. The Tal Shiar hunted my elders for arbitrary or imagined crimes against the state. I can't forget that and I'll never forgive it."

P'ris paused before cautiously speaking, "I... understand your position. While it is true that your lack of trust will make things more difficult, your honesty has earned my respect. If I may ask, what was your stepfather's name?"

T'Kir answered and P'ris winced before shaking her head, "It is little wonder that you hate us so."

P'ris paused again before venturing on, "The true responsibility for the massacre on Shial lies with the Tal Shiar, not the Cardassians."

_That_ particular revelation sucked all life out of the room.

"Go on." T'Kir commanded in a thick whisper.

"We, the Tal Shiar that is, revealed to the Obsidian Order the presence of the Romulan defectors living on Shial. We... emphasised, no, let me rephrase that... we _exaggerated_ the military prowess of the defectors and the capabilities of the colony as a whole. The rest, sadly, is history."

"You cold-hearted _bitch_!" T'Kir snarled and lunged for P'ris. Macen intercepted her and held her back.

"Lemme go!" T'Kir yelled at Macen.

"No!" He shouted back, "As much as I hate to say it, we need her. We need the bloody Tal Shiar on our side. Otherwise, more systems will die. Billions will needlessly die unless we stop it."

"I don't care." T'Kir snapped coldly, "The planet I cared about is dead, and she helped make it happen."

"Did you do it?" Macen asked over his shoulder.

"What?" a rattled P'ris stammered.

"Were you directly involved in manipulating the Cardassians?"

"No!" panicked revulsion filled her voice; "I only learned of the operation during the war while reviewing our previous encounters with the Cardassians."

Macen's eyes locked on T'Kir's, "Satisfied?"

"No." Came her angry reply, "She could be lying."

"You're a damn telepath. See if she's lying."

T'Kir's eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. P'ris sucked in air between her teeth and raised a hand to her temple. As quickly as the attack had come on, it subsided. T'Kir's expression softened.

"She's telling the truth." She informed Macen, sounding tired and drained.

Macen turned to P'ris, "Are you all right?"

She valiantly nodded despite the pained expression she wore, "Valuable talent."

"It has its uses." Macen concurred.

P'ris faced T'Kir, "I know that we may never be allies but can we not unite long enough to pursue a common enemy?"

It was T'Kir's turn to measure her words. Finally she nodded, "Sure. I can agree to that."

"Praise the Elements." P'ris heaved a sigh of relief, "I truly don't think my head could survive another assault like that. Tell me, what would you have down if you'd found I'd been lying?"

"Fired every one of your synapses until they burned out and left you catatonic." T'Kir remorselessly informed her.

"Ah," P'ris was hesitant, "I see."

"Can we return to the matter at hand?" Macen wondered, seeking a distraction from what had just transpired.

"Yes, well," P'ris cast one last cautionary glance towards T'Kir as she resumed her previous train of thought, "We began by conducting a general investigation of those that held the knowledge of the existence of trilithium weaponry. Amongst Senators, this accounts for five individuals. Amongst the Imperial Fleet, there over three thousand who either have direct knowledge of the weapons or directly oversee them in their storage facilities. No investigations were conducted of Tal Shiar officers with this knowledge but I accounted for over fifty agents with enough access to accommodate weapons transfers and sales."

"That's a lot of people to look at." Macen commented grimly.

"Not if you narrower the field by who has the most to gain." P'ris flashed him a feral smile, "I began with the Senators and one candidate leapt into the forefront: Senator Charand. She is a recent addition to the Senate's rolls and is a supporter of Senator Cretak's initiatives. She is a true Romulan patriot, which is good since she has little else to her name."

"Meaning?"

"Charand's family is virtually bankrupt. Her recently deceased father kept the clan's funds tied to traditional investments that did not allow for adaptability to the changing nature of the Imperial economy. Their seat in the Senate is about the only treasure the family retains. The customary bribes and gifts could keep them afloat for centuries to come."

"Charand's trademark position is her insistence upon developing client states. She has no difficulty envisioning technology transfers to a weaker state as long as it makes them dependent upon the Star Empire for maintenance and resupply. She has even advocated the sending of troops or weaponry to allow such a client to eliminate or subjugate their principal rivals. The final link is the fact that Charand filled the vacancy left by her father's passing and he sat on the Council of Five that oversees the trilithium storage and development facilities."

"Why not appoint another Senator to the post?" Macen asked, "Why induct the offspring of the passing Senator?"

P'ris flashed him an indulgent smile that made T'Kir's blood temperature rise, "Senators groom their offspring to replace them. Another Senator would have to be taught nuances of the post that the incoming Senators have already mastered."

"So," Macen mused, "In reality there are at least nine Senators, or would-be Senators, that possess the knowledge of the trilithium based weapons."

P'ris froze, "That hadn't occurred to me."

T'Kir silently cheered.

It was Macen's turn to be indulgent; "It's called 'cultural blindness' and it's an investigator's greatest weakness."

"So how certain are your suspicions of Senator Charand in the light of this re-evaluation?"

"I must confess that my certainty has ebbed somewhat." P'ris admitted, "I will have to confer with my files aboard the _Valinor_."

"The _Valinor_?" T'Kir repeated inquisitively.

"The Warbird that has been suborned to my command." P'ris explained, "Commander Donatra is a capable and proven officer. Her loyalties completely lie with the Imperial Fleet and that is both her strength and her weakness. For her services to me her Tal Shiar record gets certain... youthful _indiscretions _expunged "

"So, a true believer in the cause." Macen remarked sarcastically.

"She will not fail us." P'ris asserted, "Unlike, perhaps, your ill-tempered 1st Officer."

"Hey!" T'Kir protested, "Chekova may be an unstable jerk but at least she's our unstable jerk. Leave her out of this."

"So, she has a name." P'ris remarked dryly, "Excellent to know."

T'Kir growled low in her throat but Macen interceded once again, "Who else do you have for us to look at?"

"At this time, I will only give you the names of my chief suspects." P'ris replied haughtily, "The other names will only serve to confuse the issue at hand. I also feel justified in my assertion that we need only view the other candidates if these individuals prove innocent, which they shall not."

"Glad to know you're guilty until proven guilty here in the scenic Romulan Star Empire." Macen remarked sharply.

P'ris opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by the Red Alert warning klaxon. Macen hit his comm badge, "Macen to bridge, report!"

"Three unidentified Romulan cruisers have decloaked and are in-bound on an intercept vector. They're running weapons hot and have their shields up." Chekova reported smoothly.

"I'll be there in a moment." Macen cut the circuit and then glared at P'ris, "Well?"

P'ris hit her own comm badge, "Commander Donatra, please report."

"Three _Bloodwing_ type patrol cruisers have decloaked and our now poised to challenge us. They are refusing to acknowledge hails or communicate in any way."

"Arm the weapons and prepare to defend the ship." P'ris ordered, "Your defensive goals include the survival of the Starfleet vessel."

"With our shields up, we cannot transport you back aboard." Donatra reminded.

"Our allies will protect me." P'ris assured her.

Donatra was unconvinced, but complied, "Luck be with you."

P'ris turned to Macen, "And what follows?"

Macen's eyes hardened, "Now you learn how a starship fights."


	5. Chapter 5

71

The _Bloodwing _cruisers were the modern descendent of the venerable _Bird of Prey_. Like its predecessor, its primary hull was saucer shaped with two outcropped "wings" mounting warp nacelles. The design was far more reminiscent of the pre-Earth/Romulan war era but it had been enlarged. The overall length of the ship had been increased to 225 metres. Intended to act as border patrol craft and auxiliary capital ships, the _Bloodwing_ type boasted the latest Romulan military hardware. Theoretically, two _Bloodwings_ should have been able to occupy the Warbird while the third fatally dealt with the _Shadow_.

The attacking Romulans had based their plan of attack based upon outdated force projections. The _Shadow_ possessed augmented phasers, enhanced shields, a more powerful warp core and faster engines than any standard _Nova_-class. In short, the unsuspecting Romulans were facing an entirely different breed of sabrecat. The battle, such as it was, lasted a mere thirty minutes.

"I must confess my surprise, Commander." P'ris admitted as Macen rose from the command chair, "I had not expected either your vessel nor its crew to fare so well."

"What happens to them now?" Macen indicated the three crippled vessels displayed on the viewer. All had suffered severe structural damage and two were leaking atmosphere.

"Commander Donatra will transport a number of them into our Warbird's holding cells for interrogation. You will not do so. It is an internal matter and will be handled by the authorised agents for internal security."

"Fine." Macen's frustration was plainly evident, "What about the rest? Do we just leave them here?"

"Precisely."

"My office." Macen growled, "Now!"

T'Kir started to rise but Macen motioned for her to remain at her post. Through their telepathic bond, she could sense the depths of his frustration and anger. He felt trapped and trapped was not a good place to place Brin Macen. He had a tendency to overreact when he felt pushed.

Once in the Ready Room, Macen turned on P'ris; "What the hell is this? I won't leave these people out here to die."

P'ris gave him a pitying look, "Perhaps I've misjudged you. You reflected a certain... ruthlessness upon our previous encounter. Was I mistaken?"

"My opponents then were armed and dangerous." Macen replied stonily, "Here the people in question are defeated and helpless."

"How little you understand the Romulan psyche." P'ris laughed bitterly, "Your decades of service against the Cardassians works against you here. A Romulan is at his most dangerous when he is caged and wounded. The crews of those ships are plotting nothing less than our total destruction. We will rob them of any opportunity to harm us. I will contact Romulus and they will dispatch Warbirds to this location to retrieve these traitors. Before we depart, we will lay a minefield in anticipation of an abortive rescue attempt by these fools' co-conspirators. With luck, and the Elements' blessings, we will capture them as well when the retrieval units arrive. Does this resolve your moral dilemma?"

Macen hesitated then nodded, "Yes. It's a start at least. What about the prisoners aboard your ship?"

"They will remain my prisoners."

"No, you misunderstand. Can I have observers present at some of the interrogations?"

"Why?" P'ris asked with some suspicion.

"To more accurately relay information gleaned from the questioning of the prisoners."

"Very well, but be warned, they are my prisoners and my methods will not be questioned or interfered with." P'ris warned.

"Agreed."

* * *

The _Valinor _and the _Shadow_ were underway and headed for the remote garrison world of Tharidon. Danan and Radil had beamed aboard the _Valinor _to act as Macen's observers during P'ris' interrogations. It was not a duty that Danan relished.

"I hate this." She whispered to Radil.

Radil merely shrugged, "Can't be any worse than watching an Orion interrogation."

Danan blanched. She'd forgotten about Radil's time with the Orion Syndicate just prior to joining the SID special unit. Between Radil's time with the Bajoran Resistance and her days as a mercenary, she'd seen horrors Danan had never yet imagined in any of her lifetimes. It was little wonder that she was the cynic of the team.

She did seem to soften somewhat around Kort. The exiled Klingon and the hunted fighter seemed to find solace in one another's company. Danan hoped that they embraced that comfort for all it was worth. It was cold, perilous universe and warmth of any kind was to be treasured.

"What I hate is this Prophets' forsaken uniform." Radil growled as she tugged at her collar, "I want my own clothes back... and my phaser."

Danan had to admit that she preferred the surplus Bajoran Militia phaser that the team generally carried over the standard issue Starfleet Type II. The ergonomics were just _wrong_. For Radil, it was a matter of pride. The team's phaser was Bajoran and Radil was a Bajoran, even if she no longer looked like one.

Danan wondered what it would be like to no longer look like a Trill? What if she had her spots removed? Or what if she looked like the other species of humanoid Trill? Of course, the latter would involve a whole other range of issues as well. Still, the point had been made. It would be costly. A large part of one's identity stemmed from their planet of origin and their ties there.

_What would I do if all my ties to Trill were suddenly severed?_ Danan wondered to herself. She never examined that thought further for P'ris arrived with a brace of guards and a frightened yet defiant looking prisoner.

"If you would follow me." P'ris unlocked the doorway to the room they'd been waiting outside of led the disparate contingent inside. Another Romulan woman in a grey jumpsuit awaited them. The only features in the room were a control console, a chair with many restraints and a hood over it and a viewer on the wall. At P'ris' silent direction, the guards placed the female prisoner in the chair and fastened all of the proper restraints. The mysterious hood remained in place above her head, its purpose as yet unknown.

P'ris conferred for a moment with the grey suited woman behind the console. Afterwards she positioned herself in front of the prisoner.

"Do you know who I am?" P'ris inquired.

The prisoner's eyes blazed as she answered, "Of course. Do you know who I am?"

"You are _Kom Ron_, the Harbingers of Death." P'ris replied, referring to the Tal Shiar's elite execution squad.

"Then you know fear." The woman stated smugly.

"No." P'ris was acidic, "I know contempt. You've sold your services to a traitor. You will reveal that traitor's face to me."

"Never!" came the easy vow.

"Do you know what this?" P'ris asked nonchalantly as she patted the enigmatic hood poised above the prisoner's head, "This is crude compared to what our Vulcan ancestors were capable of, as I learned firsthand earlier today, but it is effective nonetheless. You see, Imperial scientists have spent centuries mapping out the functions and synaptic connections of the brain. This device is specifically derived from our researches into the memory centres of the mind. What you know, and recall, this machine can extract and display on that monitor for all to see." P'ris pointed to the viewer mounted in the wall, "Care to try it out or will you simply give me a name?"

Silence was the prisoner's only reply.

"Very well." P'ris sighed and lowered the hood into place. Once it was situated above her head, a small infrared laser dot appeared on her forehead. The entire hood began to track her head in a synchronised lockstep.

P'ris leaned down and met the assassin's widened eyes, "Just for your information, this is supposed to be excruciating. You really should have chosen to talk."

"I will!" The prisoner stammered excitedly, "Ask me your questions."

P'ris gave her a vicious smile, "Too late." She looked to the tech at the console, "Lanera, proceed."

The machine activated and the interior of the hood filled with more lights. The terrified assassin tried to shake the device off her head but it tracked her every movement. The lights narrowed and focused. The prisoner groaned sharply and clenched her eyes shut.

The viewer came to life. At first it only displayed static but soon geometric shapes began to materialise. The lights refocused within the hood and the woman cried out, spittle collecting on her lips. Fuzzy images began to take shape on the monitor. They were vague enough to be to be useless but distinct enough to almost make out.

This process continued again and now the imagery was clear. The prisoner's discomfort had also increased. She was suffering greatly. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably and drool fell from her contorted lips. Her face was a mask of agony. A rivulet of green blood was flowing from her nose.

"Stop this!" Danan shouted, "She can't take any more!"

P'ris shot her an angry glare and motioned for the two guards who'd escorted the prisoner to move closer to the two Starfleet "guests". Radil leaned in close to Danan and whispered in her ear.

"I wouldn't do that again. These people are on a hair trigger."

"Doesn't this bother you?"

"I've seen a lot worse done to people who hadn't just tried to kill me, Princess."

Danan clenched her teeth and tried to force herself to endure whatever came next. She made a mental note to kill Macen for this later.

P'ris turned to the tech, "Lanera, full power!"

The tech touched her controls and the assassin let out a bloodcurdling cry that made the two SID officers, and even the Romulan guards, jump.

P'ris bent down and shouted through the screams, "If you want it to end, all you have to do is remember who gave you this assignment."

An image of an older Romulan man appeared on the screen and P'ris gave Lanera the "kill" signal. The memory probe deactivated and the hapless prisoner bound to it was left a wretched sobbing, bleeding, and drooling mess. P'ris lifted the hood from the assassin's head to reveal what the machine had wrought. A young and vital woman not ten minutes before, her hair had greyed and she appeared to have aged sixty years. Danan was appalled.

"Will she receive medical treatment now?" Danan demanded.

P'ris looked at her as though she were insane, "She will be returned to the cells and then I will process the next prisoner."

"You're doing this again?" Danan couldn't believe her ears, "That poor woman just gave you what you wanted to know."  
"She gave me one man." P'ris replied coolly, "There are undoubtedly others. Perhaps the other prisoners will know something of them. We shall see."

"I will not stand here and be witness to that again..."

"Then return to your ship." P'ris suggested flatly, "If Commander Macen insists upon maintaining an observer, perhaps your companion will remain. She seems more... amenable to our methods."

"Radil?"

Radil shrugged, "Go ahead, so. I'll be fine."

"We'll see what Brin has to say about this after I deliver my report." With that Danan exited the room.

"Is she always so... passionate?" P'ris wondered.

"Near as I can figure." Radil sighed.

* * *

Hal Dracas leaned against the injector controls and just listened. Everything just _sounded _right. Dracas had previously refitted conventional _Nova_-class ships during his tenure with the Special Projects Yards. Even at their peak, none of those ships ever sounded so perfectly crafted. It had taken Dracas months of fine tuning to get the _Solstice _running this effectively. He wished he could congratulate the engineers that had refit her.

Dracas glanced about the main engineering room. Ratings and techs were scattered about monitoring and calibrating various pieces of equipment. Dracas signalled to the lieutenant under him that he was leaving. Once clear of engineering, Dracas headed for the Crew's Lounge.

The Lounge was frequently empty this late into the alpha shift sleep cycle. That suited Dracas just fine. He preferred to be alone. _No_, he corrected himself; _I'm just used to being alone_.

Dracas' life on Ardanna IV, and in Starfleet, had been a lifetime of loneliness punctuated by brief interludes of happiness. All of his solitude and euphoria stemmed from the fact that Dracas was a homosexual. On Ardanna IV, his native world, that was a capital crime punishable by death. Starfleet had seemed a refuge until he'd realised that word of his proclivities could reach home and he could be extradited back to Ardanna to watch his family be punished before he was finally put to death.

Dracas had concealed his lifestyle from all but a chosen few selected for their discretion. He'd not dared to breathe a word of his secret to his current teammates. He wasn't sure what their reactions would be. He also wasn't certain he wanted to find out.

He was fairly confident that Radil would be repulsed. The Bajoran faith was fairly rigid about the sexual roles of men and women. Kort, too, would react negatively. Klingon males saw homosexuality as an affront to their masculinity.

Grace was an unknown. She was human, and humans were generally accepting of divergent sexual lifestyles. But, Grace was also from a distant colony world and there was no telling what particular set of mores held sway there. Danan was his one sure bet on acceptance. Trills were easily the least judgmental race in the known galaxy.

The remaining three members of the team were the biggest unknowns. It was unlikely T'Kir would cast any aspirations. Heavens knew she had enough baggage of her own to deal with. In Dracas' experience, Macen could be almost as accepting as Danan. It all depended on the topic. He'd just never broached this subject matter with his CO before.

He'd had that opportunity in the gladiatorial pits of Magna Roma. When the Romans had supplied them with men and women to... _recreate_ with, Dracas had taken the opportunity to enjoy himself. His all too cleaver reply to Macen that he'd not touched any of the women had seemed to elicit a knowing look from the El-Aurian's eye. Macen was a canny bastard and Dracas had feared ever since that he'd given too much away.

Dracas knew all about Macen's ability to sense time-space distortions but it was his other abilities that frightened Dracas. It was only after the Roman mission that Dracas learned that El-Aurians were also low level empaths. This is part of what made them effective Listeners. To top it all off, who knew what kind of abilities he'd leached off T'Kir?"

Dracas shivered as he nursed his synthale. His every waking moment for months now had been filled with dread. The fear of discovery was gnawing away at him every moment of every day. His last hopes lay with Rab Daggit.

Daggit's reaction to the news, when and if it came out, was also an unknown but Dracas prayed that it would be positive. Daggit was the closest to Dracas' age, excluding T'Kir or Macen, of anyone on the team. Daggit's experiences as a soldier had left him far more comfortable with the brotherhood of men than the companionship of women, much to the disappointment of Hannah Grace. And last but not least, Dracas _liked_ Daggit as well as found him attractive.

Dracas didn't know if any of those factors would matter one whit. Soon it wouldn't matter. If he couldn't stem his fears, he was going to have to leave the team. He'd rejoin Starfleet's active duty roster and resume the life he left behind. Then his fears would be pointless.

* * *

"Hold, please." Grace called out as the turbolift doors started to close. Moving with a reflexive speed surpassed only by Grace herself; Daggit caught the lift doors. Grace slid between the open doors and took up position beside Daggit.

She gave him an inviting smile, "Thanks."

Daggit uncomfortably shuffled his feet, "No problem."

Grace hit the 'Stop' button on the turbolift's controls and turned to Daggit with an earnestly vulnerable expression; "I have to confess something."

Daggit felt trapped, "Confess what?"

"I like you." She breathed.

"I like you too." He said good-naturedly.

"No." She said in a husky voice, "I _really _like you."

"Hannah," Daggit tried to remain calm, "I'm old enough to be your father. Given the recklessness of my past before the Tarsus Wars, I might be your father if you were Angosian."

"Dammit!" Grace swore, "I knew honesty was a mistake."

"Not at all." Daggit warily smiled, "I'd suspected for awhile now, or at least since our last leave. Now the air is cleared and we can move on like seasoned adults."

"But I'm not seasoned." Grace complained, "I'd like to have a little spice in my life right about now."

"Hannah, there are sixty-odd officers and crewmen aboard this vessel." Daggit pointed out, "Surely at least one could prove adequate for now."

"Live for the moment?"

Daggit nodded as he released the 'Stop' on the lift, "It's been my motto since the wars."

"Then why don't I ever see you with a woman?"

Daggit cleared his throat and the lift came to a halt. An irate Kort waited outside the parting doors, "Who has been holding up the accursed lift?"

Grace exited and called back over her shoulder, "Thank you."

"Ah," Kort waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "young lust, eh?"

"Just a friendly chat."

"Just how friendly?"

"Friendly." Daggit warned and exited as the lift halted and the doors opened.

"Suit yourself." Kort huffed as the doors closed again, "But my interpretation is more fun."

* * *

"We can't let this go on!" Danan nearly shouted

"And how do you propose that I stop an authorised investigation conducted by a Romulan authority within Romulan space?" Macen wondered.

"You bend the rules all the time." Danan reminded him, "This is the time when you're going to let normal diplomatic channels get in your way?"

"Yes."

"This is some tacit approval of their methods." Danan accused, "You wouldn't be this complacent if you hadn't used _her_ to interrogate prisoner's minds in the past."

Seated at the coach in the quarters she shared with Macen, T'Kir looked disgruntled; "Just a reminder, _her _is sitting right here and can hear you."

"Everybody on this deck can hear you." Macen muttered.

"How can you just sit by and let this happen?" Danan was beside herself.

"Lees, calm down." Macen ordered, "There's nothing we can do. If we interfere now, this mission ends and we prove the sceptics on both sides right. I may have been dragged back into this uniform but as long as I'm wearing it I'll do my duty by it."

"So we do nothing." Danan's tone was resigned.

"We have no authority to intervene." Macen stressed, "We can merely hope that Radil's presence will rein P'ris in somewhat."

"Radil seemed oblivious to what was transpiring." Danan remarked darkly.

"She's had a harsh life. It's been filled with choices we can't imagine."

"Then why is she on the team?" Danan demanded.

"Being on the team is a choice she's never imagined." After a moment's silence, Macen asked; "Is there anything else?"

"Yes. No...Oh hell, I don't know." Danan replied out of frustration, "I'm going to bed now and hopefully I'll be able to sleep. Either way, no one had better disturb me for at least eight hours."

With that said, Danan departed. T'Kir whistled at her wake, "Cranky."

"It's been a trying day." Macen sighed as he sat down beside her.

"Hey, my day has been trying too." T'Kir protested, "Helping Dracas' engineering techs repair the ship wasn't exactly easy either."

"I'm sure it wasn't." He said soothingly.

"Don't patronise me, buster. I'll pop you one."

"Duly noted." Macen held up his hands, "Want to go to bed?"

"Sure." She replied cheerily, "For sleep or sex?"

"Sleep."

"Thank god."


	6. Chapter 6

86

Tharidon wasn't a resort world by any stretch of the imagination but it was secure. Some of the Star Empire's most powerful weapons were stored here. Since Starfleet Intelligence had long ago ascertained the world's existence and location, P'ris had had little difficulty in clearing the _Shadow's _approach to this facility. Permission to allow members of the SID team on the ground was still proving elusive.

During a last minute round of haggling, P'ris managed to obtain permission from the Senate, the Tal Shiar and the Imperial Fleet for both Macen and T'Kir to accompany P'ris to the surface. One of the trade-offs was that they were to be unarmed and carry no scanning equipment. Chekova loudly protested in the sequestered privacy of Macen's office. Due to the privileges of command, she once again lost, and once again, she wasn't happy about it.

"This smells like a trap." Chekova warned, "Someone in the Tal Shiar has already tried to kill us already. Has Commander P'ris ever told you who this mystery man is?"

"First off, it could very well be a trap. We'll cross that hurdle if and when it arises. T'Kir and I have escaped from a few tight spots before."

"Did any of them include a garrison world filled with potentially hostile Romulans?"

"Technically?" Macen hedged, "No."

"Ha!" Chekova gloated, "I thought so."

"Look," Frustration began lacing Macen's voice, "I never said this plan was perfect."

"Anything would be better than this." Chekova protested.

"Just keep a transporter lock on us and be ready to yank us out if anything happens." Macen ordered.

Chekova nodded briskly at that, "Aye, sir!"

* * *

Macen and T'Kir beamed to the precise co-ordinates provided to them by Tharidon's command centre to find P'ris already waiting for them. Also waiting for them was a squad of heavily armed Romulan troops. Most disconcerting of all was a half squad of hulking, heavily armoured Reman heavy infantry supporting the Romulan regulars. The Remans each wore dark visors to protect them from the glare of Tharidon's twin suns.

Macen found the planet's temperature akin to stepping inside a blast furnace. While the overhead yellow star and red giant did not oppress one as badly as Vulcan or other desert planets it still did a fair job of dehydrating someone from as temperate a planet as El-Auria or Earth. All Macen wanted to do was shrug out of his uniform jacket. He also knew that would be a mistake. It would be one thing to admit such a weakness in front of the Romulans, it was quite another to do so in front of the Remans.

The Romulans would meet such a display with a sense of smug superiority. The Reman, though, would incorporate it into a slow way to kill you. The Remans were the closest thing to Jem'Hadar the Alpha Quadrant had. He was one of the few Starfleet officers alive to have seen the Remans in action. It wasn't an experience he'd care to repeat. He'd also decided then that he never wanted the Remans' lethal attentions focused on him.

Macen studied the differing uniforms that the various players wore. The Romulan squad wore the standard Imperial forces broad shoulder padded grey jacket and black trousers combination. The Remans wore segmented black armour over every part of their body except their heads. These they left uncovered in order to utilise their greater than average Vulcanoid hearing.

P'ris had changed out of Fleet standard issue for her visit to Tharidon's surface. Now she was dressed in black leather. She wore a black leather vest over a black turtleneck and black leather pants and mid-calf length laced boots. Over all of this she wore a leather longcoat. Macen felt heat exhaustion setting in just looking at the outfit.

He noticed T'Kir scrutinising P'ris' garb as well, "Jealous?"

"Of what?" she asked somewhat defensively.

"Well, that outfit of P'ris' is right up your usual alley. I just thought you might want your own pair. After all, Romulan leathers are highly sought across the quadrant." Macen explained.

"There's a reason for that." T'Kir sighed wistfully, "Romulan leathers aren't as stiff as Klingon clothes but are just as durable. They're softer even than Andorian skins but twice as resilient."

"Want me to see if I can get you a set?" Macen grinned.

T'Kir wrestled with it for a moment then eagerly nodded, "Just don't trade away the Federation."

"Since when did you care so much for the Federation?" he asked with some surprise.

"Must be this stupid uniform." T'Kir retorted, "It's having a negative influence on me."

"It can have that effect." Macen remarked then fell silent. A new player had emerged on the scene. Similarly dressed as P'ris, Macen supposed this latest arrival was also Tal Shiar. P'ris briefly conferred with the man, then brought him to Macen and T'Kir.

"Commander Brin Macen, Lieutenant T'Kir, allow me to introduce Commander Kael." P'ris intoned formally.

Kael bowed his head ever so slightly, "So you are the El-Aurian P'ris has raved about. I hope you have better luck with this mystery than we have."

"I offer a more objective focus, nothing more." Macen replied.

Kael smirked, "A warrior and a diplomat. You _are _dangerous."

Kael shifted his attentions to T'Kir, "And you are a Vulcan? You are not the dispassionate arbiters of cold logic that I have heard some much about. You have fire. Tell me, is it true that Vulcan women must mate every seven years or perish?"

"First off, you don't know the half of it. Second of all, the Vulcan _ponn farr_ isn't something to be... hey! I heard that!" T'Kir accused P'ris.

P'ris did her best to look innocent but merely ended up looking guiltier. Kael looked surprised and was unsuccessfully attempting to conceal that surprise. Macen tapped into the telepathic rapport he shared with T'Kir to get a clue as to what had set her off. He sensed her frustration and agitation but her thoughts were too chaotic to gather what she'd picked up from P'ris to upset her.

_What happened? _He thoughtcast to her.

_Tell you later._ She replied.

The answer did little to satisfy Macen but he let the matter drop. T'Kir would reveal what had transpired when she was ready and not before. He didn't trust easily or often but T'Kir had earned his a hundred times over. He'd give her the time and space she needed before she'd be to ready discuss the incident with him.

Whatever had transpired, she now kept a wary eye on the Romulans, including P'ris and Kael. Macen stretched out with his own limited empathic senses to discover broiling tensions emanating from their escorts. The Romulans were uneasy but the Remans were focused to a razor's edge. They were poised to strike.

During the war, while preparing for their joint mission with the Romulans, Macen and Daggit had studied everything Starfleet had to offer about the Remans. That had been scant and insufficient data at best. Macen had fielded far more questions from the mission's commander, the Reman leader Shinzon, than he'd had answered. The largest remaining question was how did a human, presumably a defector or offspring of human defectors, earn the absolute trust of the Remans and the grudging respect of the Romulans? Shinzon had been far more interested in the Angosian commandos under Macen's care than he had been in sharing information regarding his own troops.

Macen regretted not being able to bring Daggit along. Daggit had worked hand in hand with the Remans and would be able to tell him if their current hyper-vigilant state was normal for them or not. He thought about contacting the ship but thought better of it. In their current state, the Remans might mistake his actions for a provocation and open fire on everyone. He wondered of any of the Romulans overseeing them truly knew how agitated the Remans were. Not sensing any heightened concern from the Romulans, Macen sincerely doubted it.

They were led to a large bunker adjacent to several warehouse facilities. Half the Romulan squad and the Remans detached themselves at the entrance of the command bunker. Macen, T'Kir and P'ris were led through a warren of passageways until they reached a medium sized office with transparent aluminium windows granting an unobstructed view in three directions. The bunker's armoury lay across the hall. Two Romulan guards and one armourer manned the post at all times.

"Welcome to my humble offices." Kael ushered them into the office, "They may not look like much, but they are the most secure site on this planet."

"Does that include the base CO?" Macen asked.

"Especially the Admiral's office." Kael chuckled, "Why do you ask?"

"Because I think he's standing behind you and he's looking extremely angry." Macen informed him.

Kael turned around to indeed find Admiral Kormack standing in his doorway. He cursed himself for not closing the door. The Admiral's features were flushed a greenish bronze. His eyes were narrowed and his nostrils were flared. His left hand kept twitching near his belt and Macen presumed that that's where he typically wore his disrupter.

"Admiral," Kael assumed his best snake oil salesman demeanour, "what a pleasant surprise. I was just about to inform your adjunct that the special investigators dispatched from Romulus have arrived."

"I can see that." Kormack managed to growl disdainfully, "Another Tal Shiar spy and a Vulcan and a human."

"Actually," Kael chuckled nervously, "that's a common misconception. Commander Macen here is not a human. He is in fact an El-Aurian, a native of the Delta Quadrant."

"So," Kormack's eyes refocused on Macen, "an alien from the Delta Quadrant. Why are you here? Are you the advance force for an invasion?"

"Hardly." Macen snorted, "Ever hear of the Borg?"

Kormack nodded and Macen resumed, "So did my people, after they arrived at our outer colonies. They swallowed world after world until they assimilated the homeworld itself. Several hundred survivors were scattered across the galaxy. My group headed for the Alpha Quadrant. We knew we could blend in and the Borg hadn't reached this far yet."

"And you just happened to join Starfleet along the way?" Kormack asked suspiciously.

Macen shrugged, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"And now?" Macen's answer seemed to upset him even more.

"Let's just say that I've been out of this uniform long enough to see the advantages of serving the Federation outside of Starfleet."

Kormack _harumphed _his approval at long last, "They say that a Romulan is never so much a patriot as when he is out of uniform."

Kormack wheeled on Kael, "Some, however, are spineless _quiridtches_ no matter what uniform they don. After this 'investigation' has concluded, you and I are going to have words."

Kael swallowed hard but managed a wan smile; "Will you be joining us then?"

"I sure as hell am." Kormack said gruffly and took a seat.

* * *

"Status Mr. Daggit?" Chekova asked.

"Same as before." Daggit answered grimly, "They've entered a shielded location. We're unable to maintain a transporter or transponder lock on either Captain Macen or T'Kir."

Chekova rose from her XO's seat and moved across the bridge to Ops, "Any luck cutting through the interference?"

Danan shook her head; "I've tried everything. If T'Kir were here, she'd probably tap into the base's internal sensors and get a bead on them that way."

"And you can't do this because...?"

"T'Kir's the hotshot cyberengineer. I'm an astrophysicist and a general sciences officer. I can cover Ops but I can't match her skill at this post."

"That really burns you up, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Good." Chekova replied, "That'll motivate you."

"Commander!" Daggit interrupted suddenly, "Neutrino emissions just went off the scale."

"Show me!" Chekova ordered. The viewer came to life and displayed two Warbirds decloaking in front of them.

"There's a third warbird behind us." Daggit reported.

"Shit." Chekova muttered and retook her seat, "Raise shields. Let's find out what they want."

* * *

P'ris had begun with a description of the information she'd extracted from her _Kom Ron_ prisoners. She emphasised the universality of the responses she received to her line of questioning. There could little doubt as to the authenticity of the memories extracted and therefore of the guilt of the man they incriminated. That man was one Tal Shiar Admiral, Emon Valrik.

"That's impossible." Kael protested, "Admiral Valrik himself was here merely two months ago. He and a hand picked squad of Tal Shiar agents were here to inspect the

trilithium weapons." Kael's voice slowed and his tone descended as he spoke, realising that he'd just made P'ris' case.

"What exactly did Valrik say he was doing?"

"A simulation. Testing our security by attempting to steal a trilithium warhead." Kormack replied.

"Did he succeed?" Macen inquired.

"No." Kormack suddenly sounded tired, "The Remans caught him during both attempts."

"What if they didn't." T'Kir spoke up, "What if the Remans were in on it?"

"Then a third of my troops would be collaborators." Kormack's ire rose as he realised the implications. It was then that the Admiral's comm badge buzzed. Kormack angrily swatted it, "What?"

"The Remans, sir. Tbey've..."

A burst of static terminated the transmission. Kormack's repeated efforts to contact his command post were met with silence. Macen stood and shucked off his jacket and his uniform blouse. He affixed his comm badge to his undershirt and met the questioning stares of the Romulans.

"We're going to have to fight our way out of here." Macen explained, "Admiral, are there any back, or secret, ways out of this bunker?"

"Two." The Admiral warily admitted.

"Then let's arm ourselves and get out of here." Macen recommended.

"No." Kormack protested, "The agreement was that you were to remain unarmed. This is all too convenient for my taste."

Several Romulan troopers were now pounding on the office door. Kael opened it and the two seemed relieved to see Kormack.

"Admiral, the Remans... they're overrunning the base."

Kormack shot Macen an accusatory glare as he strode out into the corridor. Macen, T'Kir, P'ris and Kael proceeded into the armoury. The Admiral conferred with several troopers out in the corridor while the others gathered weapons. Seeing Macen and T'Kir strap on gunbelts and load up on powerpacks, the armourer moved to intervene. P'ris intercepted him.

"This is on my authority." P'ris informed her, "Prepare to scuttle this room. It is vital that the Remans not capture this armoury. Can you arrange that?"

"It's in the manual." The armourer nodded and got to work.

Macen and T'Kir had selected disrupter pistols and were now choosing rifles. Kael gathered a shoulder bag filled with photon grenades. Weapons fire could now be heard down the corridor. Kormack's voice bellowed exhortations to his troops but the sound of the fighting drew closer.

Macen finished off his gearing up by donning a pair of black leather gloves. In the Federation, this style of gloves were popular among racing shuttle pilots. Apparently their lineage descended back to contests between wheeled vehicles. T'Kir gave them an appraising look then grabbed a pair for herself.

"Time to get going." Macen declared as he rammed home a power cell into his disrupter rifle.

"If we are to do this," P'ris replied primly, "then we must be in accordance. I am in command of our 'unit'."

"Fine." Macen sighed, "You're in charge. Can we go now?"

Disrupter bolts sailed passed the door and screams filled the corridor.

"They're heeeere." T'Kir grimaced, "Now what?"

Macen turned to the armourer, "Are the charges set?"

She nodded. The two troopers assigned to guard the room shifted nervously. Kormack was at the door now, yelling at his men. He was silenced when a disrupter bolt caught him in the chest.

T'Kir laid down suppressive fire while Macen drug Kormack into the armoury.

"Sir," P'ris knelt beside him while Macen joined T'Kir's efforts, "are you all right."

"Stop these bastards." Kormack sputtered, "Don't let them take the base. Too... too many secrets here... cannot fall into enemy hands." Kormack motioned her closer and began whispering in her ear.

"Whatever he's telling you, Commander, have him say it faster." Macen urged.

P'ris rose, "He is finished... and he is dead. You two," she pointed at the two guards, "begin laying down suppressive fire. Armourer, what is your name?"

"Zhasev, sir."

"Zhasev, you will set charges for a five minute countdown and then evacuate with us." P'ris ordered.

"If we're going to go, we'd better get to it." Macen warned, "They're massing for a charge."

"Sentries, man your post." P'ris crisply ordered. As the two guards took up position at the doorway, P'ris turned to Kael, "You do know the way to the command bunker, do you not?"

"Of course." He replied instantly, "But..."

"Then lead on and ask no questions." P'ris commanded, "We are to fulfil the dying wishes of Admiral Kormack."

Kael hesitated, then nodded, "Very well."

P'ris turned to Macen and T'Kir, "Keep up and shoot anyone wearing armour."

"Not a problem." T'Kir replied grimly.

* * *

"They're locking weapons on to us." Daggit reported.

"What's the _Valinor_ saying?" Chekova asked.

"I'm still trying to cut through the subspace interference field they're generating." Danan replied.

"Work faster." Chekova ordered.

* * *

"Now!" P'ris commanded.

The two guards began methodically laying down a field of fire. The unsuspecting Remans, having believed they'd cleared the corridor of resistance, took initial heavy losses. P'ris and Kael made it out of the armoury before the Remans could recoup. Macen and T'Kir followed next. They set up a firing position further down the corridor and added their firepower to the fray. P'ris called for Zhasev and the two guards to follow.

The corridor filled with pulses of green and blue light. Zhasev was caught in the back by a Reman burst and went down. One of the two Romulan guards carried her while his comrade added his efforts to the suppressive fire. They made it the protection of the 'T' junction where the others had made their stand.

P'ris examined Zhasev's vitals and wounds. She shook her head, "She is dead."

One of the guard's, Tomarek, cursed The other, Livar, joined Macen and T'Kir's efforts to repulse the Remans. P'ris got the two guards' names from them and ordered them to repeat the previous procedure. They assumed a high-low position on the left hand of the junction and began to fire at the enemy. T'Kir was then able to cross over from the right side and follow Macen's cautious retreat down the corridor.

At the next junction, which merely consisted of outcropped support struts for the ceiling, they stopped and set position to retrieve Livar and Tomarek. The guards hurried back as swiftly as they could. This routine was repeated several more times until they reached the final corridor leading to the command bunker.

By now the Remans had deduced where they were headed and attempted to flank the investigative team. Tomarek was cut down in a savage crossfire. Kael desperately keyed in the access codes that unlocked the doors while the others kept the pressing Reman horde at bay. They managed to enter the bunker and secure it.

Kael smiled, "All the codes have been scrambled. No one can enter now unless we allow them access."

"I'll verify that, if you don't mind." T'Kir said, moving to a nearby console. Macen went with her, discussing her progress as she navigated the Romulan systems.

Livar took up position near P'ris. She'd gone to the Master Tactical Display and begun calling up situation reports from the sensor logs. Her brow furrowed as she came to the report concerning the three unidentified warbirds in orbit. Cursing under her breath, she called up a different screen.

This screen required an access code. P'ris keyed it in and started as Livar was suddenly hit by disrupter fire. Macen and T'Kir whirled at the sound to find Kael holding a weapon on P'ris.

"Drop your rifles and keep your hands where I can see them, or she dies." Kael promised.

"You," Kael pointed his pistol at P'ris, "remove your disrupter in a two fingered grip and throw it here."

"Why?" P'ris demanded.

"Why did I order you to do that, or why am I doing this at all?"

"I think you know the answer to that one." P'ris replied sharply.

"Indeed I do." Kael's smile grew, "With Admiral Kormack's code, which you've so nicely inputted into the computer for me, combined with mine, I can disable the alarms and locks on all the treasures stored here."

Kael's smile faded, "Now step away from the computer and throw me your weapon, or I will kill you where you stand."

He turned towards Macen and T'Kir, "And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you two. The Remans will be happy to meet those responsible for the loss of so many of their comrades."

"Something to look forward to." Macen and T'Kir muttered together.

"You know," Kael's smile returned, "Perhaps I will just kill you after all."

* * *

"I've done it!" Danan announced gleefully, "I've isolated a subspace band that isn't being jammed."

"Send a message to the _Valinor_." Chekova ordered, "Find out who the hell these ships belong to and why they're here."

"Too late!" Daggit yelled, "They're firing on us."


	7. Chapter 7

102

"The three unidentified warbirds have fired." Daggit announced.

"Brace for impact." Chekova ordered, "Prepare to return fire."

"Commander!" Danan interjected, "The _Valinor_..."

"Yes?" Chekova demanded.

"She's encompassed us with her shields." Danan reported, "She's interposed herself between the hostile warbirds and ourselves."

"You said you'd found a way around the subspace interference blocking communications?"

"Yes, ma'am." Danan replied happily.

"Mr. Daggit, get on the horn with the _Valinor_. Find out what they're up to and co-ordinate our efforts with theirs."

"Aye, aye."

* * *

Kael grinned maniacally as he took aim at P'ris. Macen's right hand hovered near T'Kir's left hip, directly over the disrupter holstered there. He made a grab for the disrupter. Macen yanked upwards as T'Kir's knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Catching herself with her hands, she lay prone, gazing upwards at Kael as Macen took aim.

Kael saw the flash of movement off to his right and started to respond. He brought his weapon to bear in time for an emerald pulse of disrupter fire to catch him in the chest. His torso erupted in a gout of flame and he staggered backwards. Kael made one last attempt to aim his disrupter but found himself unable to raise his arm. He snarled one last savage curse and toppled to the floor dead

T'Kir pushed herself up to her knees, "Well, you know he won't be in the sequel."

P'ris gazed at Macen and T'Kir with something akin to awe. As Macen helped T'Kir to her feet, P'ris spoke; "That was incredible. The precision and timing required... unbelievable."

"You should see our full repertoire of party favourites." Macen quipped.

"But how did you..?"

"Honey," T'Kir adopted her most maternal tone, "when you've faced as many life and death situations as we have together, you start to think and act alike."

"So," P'ris said thoughtfully, "this is more telepathic trickery."

T'Kir shook her head, "None needed. Seven years of working intimately together accomplishes the same thing a mental link can."

"You came here for a purpose." Macen redirected, "I doubt that it was to simply hole up and hope that our orbital forces retook the base."

"You are correct." P'ris nodded grimly, "I intend to destroy this base and the various secrets stored here."

Macen grimaced as T'Kir whistled appreciatively, "Isn't that a little extreme?"

"You'd do it." T'Kir declared.

"It's insane." He protested.

"My point exactly." T'Kir leaned into his face. Macen's jaw clenched and worked but he remained silent.

"If I may," P'ris interrupted, "the decision has been made. Admiral Kormack supplied me with his codes, that coupled with mine, will ignite the anti-matter charges strategically located throughout this facility. We will be safe here in this bunker. The Remans, however, will fall prey to the destructive power of the anti-matter reactions. Once freed of this responsibility, we can devote our energies to contacting our respective vessels and escaping this Elements forsaken planet."

T'Kir merely shrugged while Macen slowly nodded, "Agreed."

* * *

Commander Donatra's image was static filled and cut out intermittently but the comm line was sufficient to communicate the essentials.

"These three warbirds are under the command of the Tal Shiar." Donatra informed the command staff of the _Shadow_, "They are here to capture you and take you back to Romulus for questioning."

"I thought it was illegal for the Tal Shiar to operate their own ships." Chekova clarified.

Donatra nodded, "It is. These ships are operating under the personal sanction and orders of the Tal Shiar Admiral Valrik." Donatra paused for effect, "Valrik also happens to be Commander P'ris' chief suspect."

"Oh crap." Chekova muttered.

"Pardon?" Donatra asked with some confusion.

"It just means we're in some serious trouble here."

Donatra smiled knowingly, "My universal translator disagrees but I'll submit to your interpretation. We have similar expressions in Romulan as well. They are useful in cases such as these."

"Aren't they though?" Chekova grinned, then cocked her head to one side as a sudden thought occurred to her, "Why haven't the three warbirds tried to take my ship since you enveloped us in your shields?"

"They are now content to repeat their demands while they seek clarification on how to deal with these developments. The Tal Shiar are not typically innovative or spontaneous. It would be best if you dropped your shields and manoeuvred between our warp nacelles. This would afford the most protection and provide them the most difficult target."

"We'll get right on it. Thanks."

"Repay the favour by not getting my crew killed, Earther." Donatra replied and cut the channel.

* * *

P'ris set the self-destruct charges to go off in five minutes and waited. Meanwhile, T'Kir activated the bunker's sensor network and took a look at what was occurring in orbit over Tharidon. What she saw caused her to alert Macen and P'ris.

"We've got trouble people!" T'Kir announced, "We've got four warbirds in orbit. Ours is caught in the middle of a triangular pincher formation."

"The _rekvah_ trap." P'ris nodded approvingly, "A classic. Once used to capture your _USS Enterprise_."

"I believe that same _Enterprise _escaped," Macen clarified, "with the Romulan flagships cloaking device."

P'ris' cheeks and eyes darkened in anger but she subsided, "I believe you are correct. I also believe Commander Donatra can be counted upon to provide a solution to this predicament."

"She has one ship against three." T'Kir scoffed.

"She has _two_ ships against three," P'ris countered, "and she is one of the best the Fleet has to offer. If those other vessels are operated by Tal Shiar commanders, as I suspect they are, then they are severely outmatched."

T'Kir opened her mouth to protest but she glanced towards Macen as she did so. He shrugged and she let the matter drop. Her next task was to prepare the transmitter so that they could communicate with the eventual victor of the enfolding duel in the skies. The bunker had its own transporter array, so it would be easy enough to beam to the victor's ship.

A shuddering vibration filled the cavern they inhabited and P'ris smiled, "It has begun."

"How long will it last?" Macen asked, concentrating on keeping his balance.

The shuddering ceased and P'ris' smile widened, "Ah, the beauty of anti-matter. If we had installed conventional explosives, we would still be caught in the throes of devastation for several more minutes. This way, it is over in seconds."

"A lot of Remans just died." Macen reminded her.

P'ris' smiled turned feral, "Kill or be killed. The most essential law of the universe in motion."

Macen shook his head. He himself had been ostracised by his own people for employing violent, even deadly, means to accomplish his goals. He still had a problem with wholesale slaughter. He doubted the Remans would have surrendered but denying them the opportunity to seemed wrong. His condemnation was bitter in his soul since he had, over the last year, destroyed two starships and their crews without offering any chance of surrender. The first incident was why he was no longer an active duty officer of Starfleet.

Starfleet hadn't wanted another incident of "rogue behaviour" so they had offered him a singular choice: honourable retirement or face charges. The decision had, in fact, been the doorway into Macen's current life. He was now a freelance operative working for Starfleet Intelligence's Special Investigative Division. He was now freed from many of the constraints he'd faced as a Starfleet officer. Short of violating the Prime Directive, his means and methods were left to his own conscience. His present status notwithstanding, his customary arrangement with the SID provided Starfleet much needed plausible deniability.

Macen and his team drew the highest risk, most sensitive cases due to their

expendable nature. The rest of the team had willingly opted for such a life. Macen was grateful for their loyalty and fiercely returned it. There was little he wouldn't do for his teammates and the sentiment was repaid in kind.

"Is there any way we can assist them?" Macen asked.

P'ris shook her head, "The bunker's defences are purely defensive. We have shields and jammers at our disposal but no particle weapons or photon torpedoes.

"We have a comm system, right?" T'Kir piped up.

"Affirmative." P'ris confirmed.

"Spoof `em?" Macen inquired with a grin.

"Spoof `em." T'Kir agreed with a fiercely determined look.

* * *

"The enemy warbirds have opened fire on the _Valinor_." Daggit reported crisply.

"_Valinor _status?" Chekova inquired.

"They're taking minor damage but their shields are failing faster than expected."

"Helm, prepare to move us out." Chekova ordered.

"Co-ordinates?" Grace asked.

"Anything that takes us down the throat of the closest warbird." Chekova growled.

"Aye, sir!" Grace replied with relish.

"Tactical, prepare all phasers and photon torpedoes for snap shot acquisition and firing." Chekova snapped off.

"Yes, ma'am." Daggit responded without emotion. His psychological and physiological combat conditioning was taking over.

"Helm, on my mark." Chekova warned, "Three... two... one... mark!"

Grace propelled the _Shadow _out between the _Valinor's_ warp nacelles at full impulse. She approached the closest warbird dead-on, zero degree bubble. Daggit immediately began firing. Grace banked off at the last possible moment to avoid collision and passed by the Romulan warship's starboard side. The _Shadow's _unexpected barrage yielded immediate results as the warbird's starboard nacelle began venting plasma.

Grace arced the _Shadow _into a looping "climb" above the damaged warbird. She reversed course and brought the ship back on a "dive" towards the warbird. Once again, the _Shadow_ opened up with everything she had. The differences between the _Shadow _and a standard _Nova_-class ship became more apparent with every passing second. The nimble _Nova-X _testbed prototype was proving as rugged and nimble as a _Defiant_-class escort.

The _Shadow _veered off towards the starboard side and repeated its barrage of the stricken warp nacelle. The warbird attempted to roll with the _Shadow's _passing in order to minimise the nacelle's exposure to fire. Grace compensated by increasing the _Shadow's _speed. Daggit's reflexes automatically shifted and adjusted his targeting and rate of fire.

Grace matched the warbird's roll and maintained position with the massive _D'deridex_-class cruiser. The warbird's nacelle was freely spewing plasma now. The Romulan pilot had finally deduced Grace's tactic and halted the larger ship's roll. Grace broke off and careened away at full impulse.

"Bring us back in, target the forward compartments and the primary weapons array." Chekova ordered.

Grace brought the ship around and took her in at an angled attack. Until now, the _Shadow_ had been spared coming under fire from the warbird's powerful primary disrupter array. Now the small ship's shields were taxed to their limits as they deflected pulse after pulse of raking fire. Grace's evasive manoeuvres kept the worst of the enemy's fire from hitting them.

Daggit unleashed volley after volley of counter-fire on the weapons array and was finally rewarded seconds before Grace had to pull away and start her starboard strafing run. The primary weapons array erupted in a massive explosive discharge that ended as it hit the vacuum of space. Daggit shifted priorities and pummelled the already damaged warp nacelle. It also erupted in a plasma ball. The warbird's primary weapons were now incapacitated and it was incapable of going to warp speed, in Chekova's book, this warbird became a non-issue.

A frenzied Chekova ordered Grace to change course, "Helm, alter course. Draw off some of the fire from the _Valinor_ and target the next closest warbird."

"A message from the _Valinor_." Daggit interrupted, "Commander Donatra reports that the Tal Shiar ships have received orders to immediately withdraw."

"We'll just see about that." Chekova fumed.

"Commander," Danan spoke up, "two of the Romulan warbirds are exiting the system at high warp. The remaining warbird is attempting to leave at impulse."

"And the _Valinor_?" Chekova asked.

"Sustained moderate to severe damage." Daggit reported, "They report they should have the worst of their problems under control within the next two hours."

"Move to intercept the remaining warbird." Chekova ordered.

"What?" Danan blurted out.

"Are you deaf, I said to intercept the remaining warbird. I don't want it leaving the system."

"They're moving at sublight." Danan reminded her, "It'll be decades before they reach another star system."

"Or until they patch a repair on that warp nacelle." Chekova countered, "Helm, comply with my order."

Grace shrugged and inputted the commands. Danan protested once more, "This is pointless."

Chekova stood and turned to face Danan, "Nothing is pointless, Commander. These are potential prisoners for possible interrogation. I'm simply securing them. If you have any more objections, then feel free to place yourself on report and to depart from the bridge. Am I clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good." Chekova retook her seat, "Mr. Daggit, hail the warbird."

"Channel open, ma'am."

"Order them to surrender and prepare to be boarded."

Daggit blushed, "Ma'am, I don't think I can repeat their reply."

Chekova steepled her fingers, "Very well, lock phasers on target and prepare to fire."

"Sacred Pools, woman! Listen to yourself." Danan demanded.

"Remove yourself from my bridge or I'll have Security do it." Chekova replied dispassionately.

"Go to hell." Danan remarked and proceeded to the turbolift.

"Lieutenant Grace, summon a relief officer for Ops." Chekova ordered, "Mr. Daggit, what is the Romulans' reply."

"I'd prefer not to say."

"Very well then." Chekova's eyes narrowed, "Open fire."

* * *

"What the hell?" T'Kir muttered then turned to Macen, "You'd better see this."

"See what?" he asked as he took a look at the sensor readings.

"That dummy message I whipped up drove off all the baddies except one. That one's too damaged to warp outta here. It's trying to crawl away at impulse instead."

"No one said my fellow Tal Shiar agents are nothing if not obedient." P'ris mumbled.

"Anyway, the _Shadow _is now firing on the crippled ship."

"Oh, hell." Macen swore, "We need to get up there."

"Chekova?" T'Kir asked with a reproving glare.

"Exactly." Macen grimaced, "She could end up destroying the whole ship. Get on the comm and try to get through to her."

* * *

Daggit was still shaken by the orders he'd just carried out and was surprised when the incoming signal alert flashed on his board. The signal's origin also surprised him.

"Ma'am, there's a signal coming in from the surface."

"What has the warbird crew have to say?"

"Nothing you'd care to hear." Daggit answered, "About this other signal, it could be the Captain."

"Commander Macen is dead." Chekova declared flatly, "Now target the enemy warbird and prepare to fire on my signal."

"Ma'am?"

"Don't disappoint me by succumbing to weakness now, Mr. Daggit." Chekova's scorn was laid bare, "Target the damn ship."

"Phasers locked."

"Then fire!"

* * *

"Dammit!" T'Kir snarled, "They're firing again."

"Let me raise the _Valinor_." P'ris suggested and moved in front of the comm screen. After a moment, Donatra's face appeared.

"Commander P'ris, I wish I could say I'm surprised to see you. I suppose all of that destruction was your handiwork?"

"I am flattered you took the time to notice. You seemed to have concerns of your own."

"Mere inconveniences. I trust I have you to thank for the departure of our Tal Shiar friends?"

"Thanks go to T'Kir for that particular brainstorm."

"So how can I help you?"

"We need to transport off this worthless rock."

"Undoubtedly. Sadly, our transporters are down and do not rank as a high priority."

"We have a working transporter. We need the co-ordinates of one of your transporter rooms."

"Easily done."

The screen went dark and Macen cocked an eyebrow in P'ris' direction, "That seems adversarial."

"It's our way."

"D'you trust her?"

"As much as you trust T'Kir."

"Okay then."

* * *

Macen, T'Kir and P'ris materialised on the pads of the _Valinor's _primary transporter room. Donatra was there to greet them.

"Welcome back Commander. Welcome aboard Commander Macen, Lieutenant T'Kir."

"It's an honour." Macen replied, "How soon can we patch a message through to the _Shadow_?"

"As soon as we reach the bridge." Donatra replied, "Why?"

"I need to stop them from destroying that crippled warbird."

"Pity." Donatra commented, "I rather thought of it as poetic justice."

"Commander," Daggit raised his voice, "incoming message from the _Valinor_."

"Later." Chekova hissed.

"They say it's urgent."

"Oh, very well." Chekova sighed, "Put it on screen."

There was a collective gasp as Macen's image filled the viewer. That swiftly changed into a sullen silence as they recognised the anger he was barely containing.

"Stand down, Commander." He ordered sharply.

"What?"

"You heard me." Macen growled, "Stand down. Take no further actions until I arrive aboard. The _Valinor's _transporter is down so you'll have to use the _Shadow's _to beam T'Kir and I back."

Chekova nodded, "Right away."

Macen nodded once and the comm channel was cut. Chekova turned to Daggit.

"Inform the transporter room to co-ordinate with the _Valinor_ in preparation for the Captain's return."

"Aye, ma'am." Daggit replied enthusiastically.

As Daggit set to work, Chekova retook her seat. Her hand idly drifted over to the command panel shared by the Captain and 1st Officer. She began inputting a series of commands and smiled grimly to herself as the panel's display altered. She then inputted a final set of commands and hesitated before pressing the final command toggle.

Daggit finished speaking to the transporter crew and noticed the alert on his board. He saw the 'Command Override' designator flashing and despaired. He wasn't certain he could engage the manual override fast enough to counteract the command board. Fatefully, Chekova decided at that moment to press the 'Fire' button and unleashed a brace of torpedoes at the limping warbird. They were targeted at the Romulans' engineering section. The tactic succeeded and the warbird lost containment of its artificial singularity. The ship imploded into an infinitesimally tight mass and the system gained a new navigational hazard.

Stunned silence ruled the bridge. The opening of the turbolift doors seemed thunderous in the auditory void on the bridge. Chekova turned to see who'd arrived and bit back a curse. Macen stood before her looking livid. With him were T'Kir, Danan, and Radil.

"Daggit and Radil, escort Commander Chekova to the brig." Macen's voice was so low as to be barely be heard.

"What?" she asked in incredulity.

"You are relieved from all further duties pending an investigation into what

transpired here." Macen informed her, "In Federation standard, that means you destroyed a ship that may or may not have been attempting to harm you. That remains to be determined by investigating panel. Your one indisputable crime was disobeying a direct order. I ordered you to stand down and take no further action but you went ahead and fired on that warbird anyway. I could hold a court martial for that offence alone but I won't. To be honest, I don't think I could be impartial enough so I'll let Admiral Drake convene the board of inquiry and the court martial. Since I no longer trust you, I can't let you run around the ship unsupervised. Your quarters aren't secure so that leaves the brig. Hopefully it'll be a short mission so you won't have to be in there long."

Chekova returned Macen's stern gaze with a venomous glare. Macen nodded Daggit and Radil forward and they moved to apprehend Chekova. Daggit reached out to take her arm and she recoiled away. Giving him a defiant look, she marched for the turbolift. She was last seen gazing out of the lift, looking unremorseful as the doors closed.

T'Kir turned to Macen, "Can I take this opportunity to say 'I told you so'?"

"Yeah, yeah." Macen turned to Danan, "So, Lees, it looks like you're the new 1st Officer."

"Why can't Daggit do it?" Danan whined.

"Because he gets all flustered." Macen explained, "He almost had a coronary the first time I left in command of the _Odyssey_. This would be after you left the team and left me with no 1st Officer."

Danan held up her hands, "Enough with the guilt trip. I'll be unhappy to do it. I'm not doing much else anyway."

"So now what?" T'Kir asked suddenly.

"Now we make repairs, assist the _Valinor _however we can and get ready to make

way for Remus." Macen replied.

"Remus? As in Romulus' binary twin?" Danan inquired with some shock.

Macen nodded, "We have a few questions for a man named Shinzon." .

.


	8. Chapter 8

120

"Elements," T'Kir sighed as she stepped out of the sonic shower, "do I feel better."

Macen gave her a playful leer, "I'm starting to feet better m'self."

"Take a shower." She laughed, "And who knows? You might get lucky."

"_Might_?" Macen said with mock offence, "I was hoping for better odds than that."

"A lot depends on how fast you are." T'Kir confessed, "I'm still pretty buzzed from the fight but I feel a serious crash coming on."

"Duly noted." Macen said and proceeded to strip. He stepped into the shower and activated it. The high frequency sonic pulses relaxed his aching muscles even as it vibrated the accumulated detritus of the day from his skin. The meditative atmosphere caused him to reflect on the day's events.

The Remans' participation in Valrik's operation was highly unexpected. In Macen's limited experience, the Remans answered to one man, Shinzon. Shinzon had been brilliant and ambitious, but had hardly seemed the type to distribute classified weapons to "lesser" races. He'd utilise those same weapons to be sure, but never hand them out to a potential opponent. Paranoia ran deep in the collective consciousness of the Romulans and the Remans. Distributing weapons as powerful as trilithium warheads ran counter to that cultural imperative.

_Then again_, Macen reflected, _Shinzon is human, not Reman nor Romulan. He may play the part but he's not truly a member of either side. That changes his cultural indoctrination and his potential actions_

This realisation led to Macen exiting the shower, grabbing some undergarments and grabbing a padd to start jotting down notes for his next conversation with P'ris. It wasn't until he yawned and a bone numbing wave of exhaustion hit that he thought to check on T'Kir. He found her laying naked, asleep and curled into a ball. Feeling instantly guilty and protective, Macen drew the covers over her.

T'Kir tried not to let her vulnerabilities show very often but it didn't matter, Macen knew them intimately. Since the day they'd met, he'd accepted her flaws and all. He openly helped when she asked for it, and moved discreetly when she hadn't. She did the same for him and it remained an unspoken understanding between them. It was an understanding made easier by the telepathic rapport they shared.

Macen kissed T'Kir gently on the cheek then stripped out of his undergarments. He eased his way into the covers and immediately felt her body heat. _An El-Aurian and a Vulcan_, he mused, _it's rather like pairing off a Klingon and a Trill. There's an unlikely combination._ He settled in and asked the computer to shut off the lights.

* * *

"As much as my professional pride hates to admit it, that Federation ship saved our backsides today."Donatra confessed to P'ris in the Commander's Galley.

"Elements!" P'ris swore, "Don't tell Macen that. He has cause enough to be arrogant already. First is that miserable time he saved my life from my own mutinous crew and now from this treachery. His actions on the ground were as courageous and as vital of those of his ship."

"I'd say his subcommander became overwhelmed with bloodlust." Donatra remarked a touch too coolly.

"Not unheard of even among our own forces." P'ris pointed out.

"But admittedly, a phenomenon far less frequently evidenced by the humans." Donatra, "Even as far back as the war with Earth, the enemy was valiant but rarely bloodthirsty."

"Beginning to admire them are we?' P'ris asked with a touch of professional curiosity.

Donatra caught her changing tone as well, "Do not even begin to suspect me of weakness or disloyalty, P'ris. I've never met another Tal Shiar agent I could trust before. I'll wager that the reverse is also true."

P'ris sighed, "You are correct. I am seeking prey where there is none."

Donatra considered matters carefully before speaking again, "What will you do if Macen demands satisfaction of your blood debts?"

P'ris cursed before responding, "Do not remind me. It is bad enough that I owe this Starfleet officer one blood debt for his intervention in the mutiny that almost took my ship and my life. Now I owe him another for saving my life while being threatened by Kael. It is an embarrassment to have your life held by an inferior, much less an alien inferior, at that."

Donatra managed a half smile and took a sip of her ale, "I'm sure you'll manage."

* * *

Six hours later, the mission resumed. The _Valinor_ still suffered from heavy damage but would continue repairs while underway. She set course and prepared to escort the _Shadow _to Remus. After the helms of the two ships verified course co-ordinates and speed, they leapt to warp and left the ravaged system behind.

Grace entered the bridge exactly ten hours after leaving it. She wasn't surprised to find Macen and Daggit already there. She'd expected T'Kir to utilise every minute of the ten hour respite Macen had given the senior officers and the crewmen involved in the battle against the three Warbirds. _Perhaps there were a few disadvantages to sleeping with the Captain after all_, Grace mused. Grace stopped by T'Kir's station and said good morning but didn't linger. She looked forward to resuming her post.

Grace relished her Starfleet duties. It was her other duties, her duties to her people that came much less naturally. She'd prepared throughout her entire childhood to serve the public good of her people, to pave the way for their introduction to the Milky Way Galaxy. Now that she was an adult, she found herself bound to these concerns but no longer enthusiastic about them. The SID and this team in particular had superseded her original loyalties. That couldn't last and the two causes were swiftly approaching a collision.

Her people, the Kelvans, were travelling from the Andromeda Galaxy to the Milky Way. One group of advance scouts had entered Federation space over a century ago. They had survived the different environmental pressures by adopting human form. They'd encountered and scanned a passing survey ship that picked up the Kelvans' distress call. The survey ship then relayed the call to the nearby _USS Enterprise_ under command of the now legendary James T. Kirk. The Kelvan scouts took over Kirk's ship and tried to force him to assist their plans to return to the Andromeda Galaxy to alert the rest of the Empire to the feasibility of surviving in the Milky Way.

Kirk defeated the Kelvans by revealing to them that they had also adopted human

frailties along with the appearance. Unbeknownst to Kirk, Rojan, the leader of the Kelvan expedition dispatched a message to Kelva, alerting his people to the potential rewards and risks of colonising in the Milky Way. Decades later, a return signal had been received: a small fleet of Kelvan ships was crossing the gulf between galaxies. Rojan and the others leapt into action. The younger Kelvans were swiftly trained as observers and scouts.

The young were sent forth into the Federation to determine what sort of reception the incoming Kelvans could expect. Grace was given a long-term mission. She was to infiltrate Starfleet and ascertain the Federation's military contingency for an extra-galactic invasion. Along the way, Grace happened to draw the attention of Section 31, Starfleet Intelligence and eventually the SID. Macen had extracted Grace out of Section 31 after her growing division of loyalties between S31 and Macen's team of agents sparked a confrontation between Section 31 and Macen. Macen had liberated her from S31's service. That act had sealed her ties and loyalties to him.

This created her present dilemma. What if her duty to her people opposed her duties to Macen? Which side would she choose? Which side should she choose? She'd already acted once against Tom Riker and she prayed to his lost soul that he could forgive her for altering his memory.

Sadly, Grace knew, she'd already made her choice. She'd made it the moment she'd altered Riker's memories rather than have her true heritage revealed. The worst part of it all was its futility. In her heart of hearts, Grace truly believed that Macen and the others would not only accept the truth but would assist her in trying to pave the way for her people's arrival to this galaxy. Only Rojan's damnable demands for secrecy bound her to silence. Her own parents, Hanar and Drea, were far more amenable to co-operating with the Federation in the settling of their world. Even more than a century after encountering Kirk and his crew, Rojan was paranoid regarding a Federation attempt to block relocating the Kelvan refugees and ousting Rojan's crew and their offspring from their cosy little planet.

Grace's skills at astronavigation stemmed from her grandmother, Drea. Drea had been the chief pilot of the expeditionary force that remained in the Milky Way. Kelvans passed on knowledge genetically. Grace had been born as a fully qualified pilot and tactical officer for ships both familiar and completely alien to the Federation. She could have learned a new specialisation but for the expediency of her mission to infiltrate Starfleet, it had been decided that she would utilise one of her inherited skill sets. Grace opted for astronavigation despite Rojan's urging her to focus on her tactical skills.

Grace relieved her back up and took a seat behind the helm station. She took a moment to run her hands across the length of the board in front of her. It was a ritual she performed every time she took her station. She imagined that it helped her to reconnect with the ship before she touched the controls.

"Feel reconnected?" Macen asked softly.

_Damn the man!_ Grace inwardly cursed, _He notices everything._

Grace had long wondered how much of her secret Macen had deduced. Whatever it was, he was playing his cards close to his chest. He surely suspected something was different about her. If nothing else his accursed El-Aurian empathic and temporal/spatial abilities would "read" her differently than "real" humans".

_Maybe he's waiting for me to confide in him?_ She wondered.

It was a tempting thought. Macen had readily accepted her when her connection to Section 31 was laid bare. Revealing she was an alien spying on the Federation couldn't be much more of a stretch after spying on Starfleet for a shadowy agency that didn't officially exist. Surely that couldn't be too much of a stretch in comparison?

_Yeah, right._ Grace mentally groused.

"Bridge to Engineering." Macen's voice interrupted Grace's train of thought.

"Dracas here." Came the Chief's voice.

"How are the repairs coming?"

"Finished them an hour ago. We're just waiting on the Romulans now."

"We'll wait. You'll grab some sleep."

"Sir?" Dracas was confused.

"When was the last time you slept?"

Dracas remained silent. It had been over twenty-four hours ago.

"Hit the sack, Chief." Macen ordered, "And if you report for duty any sooner than six hours from now, I'll have you spaced."

"Aye, sir." Dracas conceded wearily.

Danan rode herd over the bridge as while Macen and T'Kir conferred in his Ready Room. Lisea wished Macen would fob the 1st Officer's role onto the Ops Specialist. Heavens knew she didn't want it. She'd agreed to come back to the team merely as the Sciences Specialist, not as the damned second in command.

Danan wondered, not for the first time, what had compelled her to rejoin the team. All of her reasons for leaving were still valid. She was still broken up with Macen. Hell, he'd even started seeing another woman. It was with her blessing but that didn't mean that it didn't sting once in awhile. She still viewed Macen as being partially out of control. Ever since he'd joined the Maquis, his tendency for unrestrained action had increased dramatically. To be honest, his handling of Chekova rather surprised her since it's the type of stunt that he himself was capable of.

Danan had recognised Macen as an elemental force of nature during the symbiont's previous host life. Aural Danan had worked alongside Brin Macen in Starfleet Intelligence. Like Lisea, no one knew that Aurel was actually the minority form of humanoid found on Trill, the ones that subsumed the bulk of the very personalities in order to enjoy the fruits of joining. Ambassador Odan was the most famous representative of this second class of Trill hosts.

Over Aurel's lifespan, it was Danan that fell in love with Macen. These emotional feelings remained intact when the symbiont transferred host bodies. Lisea, like Aurel before her, underwent cosmetic surgery in order to appear to be of the mainstream order of Trills to offworlders. When the secret of Trill symbionts was revealed as a result of Odan's getting injured during the course of a mission, the acceptance of this unique co-existence between humanoid and vermiform surprised and delighted Trill society.

Lisea decided to use this moment of goodwill towards Trills to seek out and approach Brin Macen. Finally seeing someone who had the potential to "live" longer than he could, he readily plunged into a romance with Danan. It had been a long time since either of them had had a serious relationship and they jumped into things rather impulsively. Despite all of the little fissures in the relationship, Danan was willing to make a go of it, that is, until the Maquis mission came along.

Over the course of the mission, Macen's inherent instabilities came to light. On top of that there was always T'Kir. The Vulcan seemed to have permeated every moment of their lives. The final bruising insult was that Macen trusted T'Kir more than Danan even after the schizoid Vulcan had tried to kill him.

Danan sat out the Dominion War utilising long-range sensor arrays to detect and track enemy movement. This required two lifetimes worth of skills. At the close of the war, Admiral Nechayev approached Danan with an intriguing proposition. Macen had been selected to lead a starship on a covert mission and Starfleet Intelligence was seeking her to fill the 1st Officer's billet. It sounded too good to be true, so of course it was.

Once again, T'Kir came between them. This time Macen had to break her out of a psychiatric detention facility but that didn't dissuade him in the slightest. Throughout the mission, Macen's natural proclivity for unilateral action ran amuck. At the mission's conclusion, Danan left the team.

Unsure of whether or not to stay in uniform, Danan accepted reclassification as a Reserve Officer. She then sought to rebuild her life with the Daystrom Institute. She swiftly discovered though, if the bureaucracy of Starfleet seemed stifling, then that of the Institute was downright crushing. Danan persevered and advanced in the eyes and stature of her peers. .

Although unhappy, Danan made no trouble for any of her supervisors or co-workers until her survey ship came under attack by the Nova Romans. She then revealed the Type I phaser she habitually carried and threatened to shoot the ship's captain if he didn't relinquish command to her. Her first and last act as commander of that beleaguered vessel was to surrender to the Nova Romans. Her fellow scientists temporarily went into slavery but at least they survived.

This experience would have been permanent if not for the arrival of Macen and his Special Investigations Division team. Over the course of their adventures on Magna Roma, Macen and his team discovered an alien conspiracy to subvert the Roman Emperor, led an uprising, recruited and led an Iotian invasion force, overthrew the Emperor and drove the Omicrons from the planet. All that and several action packed appearances in the gladiatorial arena. Upon being freed from her captors, Danan requested to be let back on the team. Macen, for reasons of his own, accepted her without question or reservation.

Danan found her thoughts drifting towards the Ready Room. Danan wondered whether or not Macen and T'Kir were really working or whether this was merely an excuse to... She stopped herself there. That was a slippery slope that she didn't want to go down. She remembered Macen's touch. She'd had more skilled lovers over Danan's lifetime. _Not that Macen was an unskilled brute_, she reminded herself, _His enthusiasm and willingness to experiment certainly made up for a lot._

Danan shook herself. _That_ was exactly the slippery slope she needed to avoid. The last thing she, or anyone else for that matter, needed was a love triangle. _Still, she always enjoyed a challenge and that Vulcan tart certainly seemed a greater challenge than one would assume. _Again, Danan stifled these thoughts, but a warm afterglow remained after having them. _Hmmnn..._

* * *

Remus loomed before them on the viewer. It was a dark and forbidding world. A smaller binary twin of Romulus, Remus stalked Romulus' every movement. Possessing no axial spin, Remus possessed an eternal "day" side and a "night" side. The original, genetically engineered miners who came to the night side to harvest the world's wealth in dilithium gradually lost their ability to tolerate light in any abundance. This handicap was passed on generation to generation in the endless gloom of Remus' mines.

The children of the original miners became known as Remans. Later as the full heritage of their genetic enhancements and the pervasive exposure to dilithium transformed them, these offspring of the mines became known as Remans. Marked as different by "normal" Romulans, the Remans were systematically treated as second-class citizens. Romulan overseers directed the mines under the command of a Senate appointed Commandant. There had been a cry of victory across Remus when Shinzon, the adopted Reman, had been appointed Commandant.

No Reman had ever risen to any rank until the advent of the Dominion War. Then, out of desperation to match the brutality of the Jem'Hadar, the Remans were recruited as shock troops. Shinzon, his hidden genetic heritage granting him natural leadership abilities, was thrust into the foreground and granted command of the Reman battalions. Tactics and strategy were not new concepts to the Remans; the battlefield merely changed shape. Instead of an intangible war against the Commandant's never-ending quotas and reign of terror enforced by Romulan military units and Reman "bonebreakers", the Remans found a foe they could lash out against. It was little wonder they became so effective.

At the war's end, the Remans were offered a simple choice: return to the mines or stay with the battalions. Most opted to return home but a fair number remained within the Imperial Forces. These remaining units were scattered throughout the Empire, usually assigned to high security areas. Shinzon was rewarded with the post of Commandant. He used this post to maintain his high level contacts in the Fleet and began to regard members of the Senate as acquaintances.

The Tal Shiar maintained a presence on Remus as well. They had built an isolated facility on the "dayside". No Remans ever went there. Whether or not the agents posted there ever went to the "nightside" remained to be seen.

* * *

"Now remember, Commandant Shinzon is the absolute authority on this world. His word is law." P'ris reminded Macen, T'Kir and Daggit on their way to the _Valinor's _transporter room, "Since he was raised by the Remans, he is considered one of them. Do not provoke him lest you inspire their wrath."

"Why Commander," Macen wore an evil grin, 'you sound as though you expect me to be impertinent."

"I expect you to act like an evil imp, which is what you are." P'ris replied with a small smile, "It is as the Elements formed you."

"You know what I find fascinating?' Macen asked, "This shared reverence for the Elemental forces of Water, Earth, Fire and Air. T'Kir..._oof_!" He was cut off by a strategically placed elbow strike by T'Kir.

She smiled beatifically, "The Romulan settlers on Shial also believed in the Elements and the honouring of the same was a matter of discussion between the Vulcan and Romulan settlers."

P'ris graced her with a warm smile, "I have heard you invoke the Elements under your breath, Lieutenant. You may unwittingly be the culmination of the renegade Spock's goals for our two peoples."

"Heavens forfend." T'Kir swore.

P'ris laughed, "I feel the same way. Perhaps that will change. I can see where our two people would be stronger united than apart. I wonder if that is treasonous to consider? It does not matter. I will think what I wish and the consequences be damned."

"Spoken like a true rebel." T'Kir grinned despite herself, "You'd have made a helluva Maquis."

P'ris' face puckered, "I am not certain how to take that."

"I am." The formerly silent Donatra interjected, "Such an affiliation would have got you executed by the Tal Shiar. Anything that warrants that can't be all bad."

Daggit chose that moment to clear his throat, "Can anyone tell me why I'm carrying a Romulan disrupter and pulse rifle?"

"Ammunition." Macen explained, "If you need powerpacks, you can readily use what's on hand in the planetary arsenals."

"Or the corpses of your enemies." Donatra put in; "The advantage to both ally and foe using the same weaponry is that you are assured ready access to components for your own armaments."

"Awfully cold perspective." T'Kir observed.

"This coming from a Maquis?" Donatra laughed bitterly, "You stripped the weapons off of dead comrades and enemies alike."

T'Kir took a step towards Donatra but Macen placed a restraining hand on her shoulder, "Perhaps we should discuss something else."

"I agree." P'ris said in a tone not to be countermanded.

"Commandant Shinzon has courteously extended his hospitality to you and your crewmates, Commander Macen. In light of the unexpected, and unexplained, actions of the Remans on Tharidon, Shinzon was willing to let the Starfleet team carry weapons for their own protection. This concession came at a small price; they could not proceed to any area on Remus without an escort. Ostensibly, the escort was for their protection but in reality they were there to spy on the visitors.

"Trust will not come easily to Shinzon, or any other Reman for that matter." Donatra informed the team as they entered the transporter room, "After centuries of exploitation, the war has given the Remans a voice in Romulan affairs and it is one they intend to use. I was able to arrange your meeting with Shinzon based upon the merits of our working relationship during the war. My credibility is at stake here." Her mouth twisted into a wry grimace; "I'd appreciate it if you didn't spend the currency of my good name too freely."

There was a soft, united chuckle at that and the team stepped onto the transporter pads. Donatra used this opportunity to revisit an argument already lost, "I'd prefer if you brought along a Romulan escort."

"Why?" P'ris countered, "Commander Daggit is perfectly capable. I have reviewed our file on him. The term 'capable' is a misnomer. With any army of conditioned troops such as Daggit and his associates, the Federation would have had little use for either the Klingons or our forces during the war."

Daggit shifted uncomfortably at this description of his fellow "Super-Soldiers" but couldn't deny the basic premise behind P'ris' argument. If the Federation had been willing to subject its citizenry to the physiological and psychological alterations he and his comrades had undergone, then the Federation very well could have won the war on its own. The problems would be becoming apparent now that the peace was won.

First of all, the Federation's would have been expended to the point that they would now be unable to defend themselves against an aggressor, _any_ aggressor. The second difficulty would be the same as the one faced by Daggit's homeworld: what to do with a portion of your population unable to reintegrate with society? Angosia had barely been able to ineffectively deal with a few hundred such individuals. The Federations would have produced tens of thousands.

When one considered that he, and the others like him, only felt calm and at peace while engaged in combat, it made one terrified to ponder what an army composed of Daggit and those like him would be like. It could very well be a force dedicated to endless warfare. The Federation would have to continually alter new conscripts in order to fill the ranks of the fallen or face imminent and crushing defeat. Whereas certain species such as the Tzenkethi and the Romulans saw the Federation as an encroaching hegemony, P'ris' vision would have transformed it into a militant empire.

"The matter is decided, Commander." P'ris declared, "Transport us to the surface."

Donatra frowned but stepped back to the transporter's control console and nodded to the tech manning it. For Macen, T'Kir, P'ris and Daggit the transporter room blurred out of existence...

* * *

...and refocused in a low-lit duplicate. A Romulan Subcommander and a Centurion were there to meet them, as well as two armoured Remans. The Remans were armed with disrupting pulse rifles and their traditional personal knives. It was not a reassuring sight for anyone that had fought Remans.

The Remans bristled and Macen moved his hand away from the butt of the disrupter hung low from his hip. He reached out and tapped T'Kir's hand in order to initiate a telepathic link. Over it, he instructed her to keep her hand clear of her weapon. Her hand drifted away from the pistol and the Remans visibly began to relax.

The Subcommander stepped forward and presented himself to P'ris, "Commander, it is an honour."

P'ris struggled to peer through the gloom as she replied, "I am certain the honour is mine."

"I believe I can alleviate some of your present difficulties." The Subcommander announced and snapped his fingers and the Centurion stepped forward, "My adjunct, Centurion Pretak."

"And may I have your name, Subcommander?" P'ris asked.

"Koval." He replied with a cold smile.

"Fancy that." P'ris replied noncommittally at hearing the family name of the head of the Tal Shiar being bandied about, "You said something about relief?"

"Ah, yes." Koval smiled, "These," he held up a pair of wraparound ocular visors similar to what the Remans wore for protection against the sun, "are sensor glasses. They provide vision enhancement and night vision capabilities. You can also tie your disrupter into them and 'see' an illuminated dot upon whatever your weapon is aimed at. It has proven invaluable for the guards and troops stationed on this miserable cave of a world."

"Is that a complaint?" a hint of a smile tugged at P'ris' mouth.

"An observation, Commander." P'ris had to grant him that he was a bold one.

The sensor glasses were distributed amongst the Starfleet team and Koval led them towards the door but P'ris stopped him when she reached the two Reman guards, "And what are your names?"

They stared at her blankly and she grew impatient, "Well? Can you understand me?"

"They can't believe you really want to know." T'Kir advised her, "They think its some kind of trick. Typically, they're treated as little more than furniture. Any Romulan who's treated them differently has had an agenda all their own."

_Now_ the Remans bristled and shifted their weight uncomfortably. Shinzon's adjunct, their leader before his elevating Shinzon into the position, was a telepath. It was a trait retained by the Remans. It was not expressed very often but when it did appear, it was even more powerful than the touch telepathy of the Vulcans. The Adjunct could tap your mind no matter where you were on Remus. Now this slip of a Vulcan was displaying similar talents. A contest between such forces could have unprecedented consequences.

"Ayrk and Khimar." The Reman named Ayrk finally answered.

"I am honoured and pleased to meet you, Ayrk and Khimar." P'ris informed them, "As are my Starfleet comrades."

"We remember Commander Macen for his services rendered to the Reman battalions." Ayrk replied with a nod in Macen's direction, "As we remember Lt. Commander Daggit for fighting alongside us against the Jem'Hadar. Commandant Shinzon has ordered us to extend you every courtesy in memory of these actions."

"We thank you for your courtesy," Macen assured them, "just as we remember the valiant actions of the Remans on that historic day. Perhaps our days of co-operation lay before us rather than behind us."

The two Remans seemed mollified and motioned for the assembled Romulan and Starfleet officers to follow them.


	9. Chapter 9

135

The labyrinths of Remus had been carved out over the course of centuries. Vast subterranean halls and cities had been hewn out of the stone. A Reman was born, lived and died in the stygian gloom of his cavernous environment. The entire native population lived in the scattered cities born from the original mining encampments.

One such city had risen in stature above the rest. Sharuz-dum was the home of the Commandant. Built from the original mining colony, Sharuz-dum served as the seat of Reman power. This truly meant it was the hub of Romulus' control over Remus' various mining settlements.

The dilithium ore lacing the crust of the planet negated the use of transporters within the passages. Orbital transports had to be conducted at selected sites. Most of the other passages cut into the rock were wide enough for two or three Remans to pass comfortably by. They were, however, too narrow for the use of repulsorlift or impulse driven vehicles like on the surface of Romulus. It generally made for a lot of walking.

The exceptions were the Romulan troops garrisoning Remus. They had access to motorcycles and quadrunners. Two motorcycles and four quads were parked in the passageway outside the transporter station. They all utilised high-density batteries so as not to pollute the Reman atmosphere.

The Remans mounted the motorcycles. P'ris and Daggit each took a quad for themselves. Koval mounted up behind Pretak on a quad, clearly intending to be driven about. Macen and T'Kir conducted a silent argument over who would drive and when Macen finally won, she snuggled up behind him on the last quad.

The Remans fired up their cycles and roared off down the passageway. Not to be outdone or intimidated, P'ris followed suit. Daggit followed on her metaphorical heels. Macen gunned the quad's engine and gave chase before the Romulans could respond. Lagging somewhat, Pretak began his pursuit of the briskly paced column.

The advantages of the Remans' natural adaptations to the conditions coupled with their familiarity with the passageways soon became evident. They repeatedly had to slow their progress down to allow the others to catch up. It was during the course of one of these games of "tag" that Macen noted the cut-outs regularly carved out of the wall. Pedestrians, alerted by the high pitched whine of the vehicles' engines, could safely step out of the way of oncoming traffic.

Macen was disappointed at the speeds at which they navigated the passageways and settlements of Remus. The halls and homes of the Remans were carved out of the very rock and displayed the talents of master craftsmen. Great care and sacrifice had gone into the building of each edifice. The scientist in Macen yearned to study the Remans' societal make-up and observe its familial structures in action.

The transporter station was built near the surface of the Reman crust. It took nearly an hour to navigate down into the "capital" of Sharuz-dum. Upon arriving, Macen was impressed. It reminded him of a site he had visited on Earth. The Edomite city of Petra had been carved out of the rock in similar grand scale. Although the Edomite culture had long been extinct on Earth, their city lived on.

Massive columns held aloft the ceiling above the grand courtyard of Sharuz-dum. Here, in the courtyard, the daily life of the city transpired. All the homes of the city were built around a central hall with an opening whose style could have adorned a Vulcan temple. This hall housed the Commandant and his staff. Ayrck and Khimar led them through the bustling marketplace that occupied most of the massive courtyard. They parked their vehicles in front of the Commandant's hall and waited for the others to do the same.

"This way." Ayrck said as he motioned towards the steps leading up to the hall's entrance.

* * *

_By the Pools,_ Danan thought miserably, _I am sooooo bored._

With Macen down on the planet, Danan was in command. Grace was at the helm, doing a lot of nothing. Everyone else on the bridge was a relief officer. Radil stood guard over Chekova. Dracas was in Engineering co-ordinating diagnostics to see of the recent repairs were holding. According to reports and complaints, Kort was holed up in Sickbay, haranguing anyone who happened to drop in.

There just wasn't much to do while sitting in orbit. Danan had already utilised the _Shadow's _formidable sensor array to run virtually every type of scan on Remus. Donatra had quickly gotten on the horn to yell at her but the bulk of the scans had been completed by then. The Federation's knowledge of Remus was going to be substantially increased upon the ship's return home.

Silence dominated the bridge. The crew had been overtly avoiding the SID team since Chekova's arrest. Several rallies and protests had been conducted in the messes. No one had come forward to demand Chekova's release so Danan assumed it would all remain subdued. Reports and complaints would be filed and a generally sullen atmosphere would prevail but things would get done.

It was to her great surprise when she heard Tennison, the relief Tactical officer, raise her voice; "Commander, may I have a word?"

Danan rose from the dual command station and turned around to face Tennison. The Security officer was aiming a phaser at Danan. Danan glanced about the bridge and discovered that every relief officer, Science, Ops, and Engineering, were all aiming phasers at her. Grace, slowly rising from her station, had obviously noticed it too.

"You've been relieved, Commander." Tennison said emotionlessly, "Commander Chekova will be assuming command shortly."

_Mutiny!_ Danan thought dismally, _Brin is going to kill me._

* * *

Dracas wasn't surprised to be staring down the working end of a phaser. He was disappointed, however, to find that it was wielded by his Assistant Chief Engineer. He thought that he'd established a better relationship with the young tech officer than that. Even as he raised his hands in surrender, Dracas was already seeking a means of escape.

* * *

Kort threw out yet another mutineer with a roar. So far, they'd come at him one at a time. He'd easily disarmed and ejected every intruder into Sickbay. Eventually, though, they'd rally and rush him en masse with heavy weapons but until then he'd face them like a warrior born.

* * *

The Commandant's hall was richly appointed with the latest styles from Romulus. The previous Commandant had been summarily executed and Shinzon had inherited all of her possessions. Although not Reman by birth, Shinzon held to Reman customs. Most of the items littering his hall showed little signs of use. In fact, his office was the first room to exhibit any Reman character.

The office was austere. It possessed a single desk and workstation terminal. Four simple, metal chairs sat before the desk. The room was dimly lit, right at the comfortable level for Remans. Seated behind the desk, awaiting them, was Shinzon.

His relative youth was the first striking feature that caught one's eye. He held himself with a mien far beyond his years. His shaved cranium, coupled with the fierce intensity of his eyes, granted him an elemental visage. He wore Reman armour but unlike the typically ebon armour worn by common Remans, Shinzon's was purple hued with a pearlescent gleam.

The origins of the Remans' armour lay in both aspects of their heritage: warrior and miner. It was durable enough to protect one from cave-ins and other hazards while being flexible enough to allow unrestricted movement. All Remans wore their armour with pride. Only Reman children were without armour and adolescents were given communally owned suits to practice wearing until they matured and received their own custom crafted set of armour.

Standing to Shinzon's left was a tall Reman in black armour. It was to be assumed this was the Attaché that Ayrck had thought of. T'Kir had relayed the stray thought via their telepathic bond. T'Kir had dampened their personal telepathic bond in order to broadcast a general "jamming" field.

The Attaché stirred as his efforts to read the minds of Shinzon's guest were repetitively thwarted. He continually redoubled his efforts and the others began to show signs of the increased mental pressure in the room. Only Macen and Shinzon appeared unaffected by the mental duel waging around them.

As the psychic backlash increased, P'ris clutched at her head and Daggit

struggled to keep his eyes open through the grimace he wore. Ayrck and Khimar were each staggered and sought support from the office walls. Macen and Shinzon calmly assessed one another as a fine trickle of sweat began to run down T'Kir's cheeks. The Attaché's lips began to tremble as he mounted his final assault.

As suddenly as it began, the contest ended. At first, the only visible signs of the cessation of hostilities was the sudden relaxation in T'Kir's shoulders and the renewed stiffness of the Attaché's posture. It took several more minutes for the others to begin to recover. Macen smiled coldly and crossed his arms over his chest as he levelled his gaze squarely upon Shinzon.

"Are we done testing each other's mettle or can we expect a repeat performance?"

Shinzon matched Macen's smile but a glimmer of respect shone in his eyes, "I believe we're done. You'll have to forgive my Attaché's... enthusiasm. He took me into his family when I was just a boy deposited on Remus to die. He moulded me into the man I am today. He will take any action he deems necessary to preserve my life. Since it is my life, I naturally concur with his judgement."

"Perhaps his concerns today were misplaced." Macen suggested.

"Perhaps." Shinzon allowed then paused for a moment's reflection, "My lieutenants made promising reports regarding you during the war. You advised your troops and then fought beside them on the front lines. That is a rare thing for one in your profession." Shinzon cast a withering glance towards P'ris, "As her comrades could tell you."

"Commander P'ris has comported herself beyond reproach during my association with her. I can't speak for any actions she has committed that I wasn't witness to." Macen replied.

"A legalism, Commander." Shinzon scoffed, "An evasive manoeuvre designed to avoid responsibility. Be bold, show that battlefield courage again and venture an opinion."

Without hesitation Macen responded, "P'ris is reliable. I've already entrusted her with my life and would do so again."

Shinzon nodded, "Good. That's all I needed to hear."

With that said, Shinzon spoke to the Attaché, who dismissed Ayrck and Khimar; "They'll await you outside." The Attaché informed them.

The team took the seats arranged before Shinzon's massive desk and he studied them over steepled fingers, "Now, Commander, How can I assist you?"

* * *

"Well, Commander, what's your decision?" Tennison demanded.

"You damn well know I can't surrender this ship to you." Danan answered in frustration, "So do what you need to do and be done with it."

Tennison straightened out her arm and took precise aim, "Sorry, Commander. It's nothing personal."

_Oh yes it is,_ Danan thought bitterly. She waited for the shot but it never came. Instead the mutinous bridge crew vanished. To be more precise, they were replaced by little hexagonal spheres each with their own phasers lying beside them.

Danan cast about looking for a rational explanation and her eyes fell on Grace. Hannah had a rectangular device in her hand. In its centre it had an activation stud and to each side of the lengthways portions were three lights. Grace looked more terrified now than when the phasers had been trained on her.

"I couldn't let them kill you." She pleaded, "They're still alive, they're just recast in a harmless form. My grandfather told me about doing this to the crew of the _Enterprise_ and it seemed appropriate for this situation too."

"Grace... Hannah, I'm not going to try and pretend I understand what you've done here." Danan informed her, "But I need to know, how many of the mutineers did you do this to?"

"All of them." Grace gulped.

"All?" Danan repeated in disbelief.

"Other than the team members, I couldn't determine who was on our side or not. It was easier and safer to transform them all." Grace explained.

"All of them." Danan whispered to herself. Earlier she had sought to delve deeper into the mystery that was Hannah Grace. Now she had received her first insight and it terrified her. What other secrets had Grace hidden from them?

* * *

Dracas blinked in surprise. One minute the Andorian Assistant Chief Engineer had been in front of him and then he wasn't. Theri'shran had been replaced by a small, hexagonal object. Shran's phaser lay beside the hexagon but the engineer himself was gone. Come to mention it, _everyone _in Engineering had been replaced by one of these... thingies.

Dracas momentarily felt a pang of regret. As a student of James T. Kirk's missions, he felt he might have a clue as to the fate of the assembled crewmen around him. The pang dissipated as Dracas recalled that although not everyone had been aiming a phaser at him, no one had exactly rushed to his aid either.

_As the humans say, screw `em._ Dracas thought. He tapped his comm badge almost as an afterthought, "Engineering to Bridge."

"Bridge here." Danan sounded shaken Dracas noted.

"Everything all right up there?"

"Compared to what?" Danan retorted.

"Commander, do you have any idea what the hells just happened to my engineering crew?" Dracas had to ask.

A deep sigh was transmitted over the comm line, then a resigned sounding Danan replied; "It's a long story, Chief. One we're still sorting out I might add. You might as well report to the bridge and get the details with the rest of the team."

"Just us?' Dracas inquired.

"Yup." Danan remained enigmatic, "Just us. Bridge out."

"And what the _frinx_ is that supposed to mean?" Dracas wondered aloud.

* * *

Kort swung and... missed? His opponent just suddenly vanished. Kort found himself in motion and out of control. He felt, and heard, a strange and unexpected crunching as he regained his control. He looked to the deck to see what he'd stepped in. Half of a small hexagonal shape remained unbroken but the rest of it was shattered and crumbling to dust.

Kort braced for the next assault. Minutes passed and no one tried to force the Sickbay doors. Curious, Kort retrieved one of the multitude of phasers he'd been collecting from the various invaders into his domain. He'd maintained a practice of depositing the last fallen opponent out into the corridor to slow the next assailant. This last time, it hadn't worked that way.

The attacker had forced the doors before Kort had managed to dispose of the previous body. Since he couldn't find a trace of the man he'd just been fighting, he sought the unconscious form of the last woman to try her hand at besting him. Her body, too, was missing. In its place was an intact hexagonal sphere. Kort made a connection and grabbed a tricorder. The object contained all the essential mineral and elemental components of a humanoid body.

_By Kahless,_ Kort mused in wonderment, _It is her. Transformed but her nonetheless. Which means that other sphere I crushed..._

Kort let that thought go and tapped his comm badge, "Sickbay to Bridge."

"Bridge." Danan's weary voice replied, "Come to the Bridge, Kort. Your questions will be answered there."

"How did you know..?"

"That question will be answered on your way here." Danan informed him, "Bridge out."

* * *

Radil ducked back into the brig. Just as quickly as the incoming phaser fire ceased, she spun on her heel, took aim with her pulse rifle and let loose her own volley. The corridor surrounding the brig had an independent forcefield system. Once activated by the watch commander, it could not be overridden by the Tactical station or the Security Office. Radil had activated the fields but several of the mutineers had been trapped within the confines of the electrostatic barriers.

She dodged another volley and relished the experience. _This_, in her experience, was when one felt the most alive. Radil's senses were aflame with sensation. She savoured every breath. Seconds ticked by slowly, each one a universe unto itself and relished like a conventional lifetime.

She knew of her planet's millennia long heritage of peace but she couldn't connect with that. She'd grown up during the decades' long Cardassian Occupation that had re-taught her people how hate and kill. Radil had tried peace. She'd returned to Bajor after the Cardassian withdrawal. That life had been stunted and dull.

When her former cell mates came to her and invited her to join them in pressing on with the war against Cardassia, she jumped at the chance. Having been loaned out several times to mercenary bands during the Occupation, Radil made a natural segue into professional soldiering. Despite all her protestations to the contrary, Radil had seen her involuntary enlistment as a natural progression in her evolution as a fighter. She saw more action now than she'd ever dreamt of as an agent of the Orion Syndicate.

Even her Syndicate deathmark merely spurred her on to enjoy life more fully. Caught up as she was in the moment's reflection, it took Radil a heartbeat to realise that her last volley had spurred on no return fire. Radil spun and took aim but found nothing to aim at. Everyone, including the stunned mutineers, was gone. Their weapons lay discarded on the deck but all that remained were a series of hexagonal spheres littering the floor.

Just on a hunch, Radil checked Chekova's cell. It came as no surprise to find another of those strange sphere's there. Radil deactivated the corridor forcefields and headed out for the bridge. Once there, she would either get the answers to the obvious questions or get steered in the right direction as to what transpired.

* * *

No sooner had the team sat down in front of Shinzon's desk than Macen's comm badge sounded, "Danan to Macen."

Macen's eyes rolled "skyward", "Please excuse me, Commandant."

Shinzon nodded his acquiescence and Macen rose from the chair he was seated in and proceeded to the nearest corner, "Macen here. This had better be damned important. I left instructions to be left alone."

"Does a mutiny count as important?" Danan asked flippantly.

Macen's blood froze, "Who's in control of the ship?"

"The team retains control of the ship."

"How'd you pull off that particular miracle?" Macen had to ask.

"Grace turned the mutineers into little hexagonal objects." Danan reported, "Kort says that each of the little 'spheres' contains the same basic elemental and mineral structure as your standard humanoid lifeform."

A memory tugged at Macen's mind, "Was Hannah holding a rectangular box with a central actuator stud and two sets of three lights to either side of it when she accomplished this feat?"

"Yes." Came Danan's bewildered reply, "How'd you know that?"

"I know what's going on." Macen assured her, "You and the others are in no danger. Right now I suspect she's more scared about revealing her secret than you are about learning it."

"I sincerely doubt that." Danan muttered.

"Whatever else, remember that she's still the same Hannah Grace that you've known since she replaced D'art at the helm and piloted the _Odyssey _into battle under your command. She hasn't changed into someone else. She's merely blossomed into a more complete picture of the totality of Hannah Grace."

"Smooth talker." Danan gibed.

"Just keep the crew calm until I get there."

"Shouldn't be hard. All that's left is the team."

"The whole _crew _mutinied?" Macen asked in disbelief.

"Yup."

"Damn." Macen sighed, "Do the best you can. We're about to get underway down here. Hopefully this away mission will proceed more smoothly than the last one."

"Do you honestly expect that to happen?"

"No." Macen admitted, "But there's always hope."

"Problems?' Shinzon asked as Macen retook his seat.

"Nothing my crew can't handle." Macen assured him, "They were just calling me to advise me of their current situation."

"Very well." Shinzon conceded, "Now if you may explain to me how I might be of use to you?""

"Milord," P'ris began, "I am uncertain if you are aware of it or not but Reman troops were recently used against us at Theridon."

"I am aware of it." Shinzon revealed, "How does this affect me?"

"The ultimate loyalty of every Reman is to you." P'ris reminded him, "If you were to order all members of the Reman battalions to forsake their orders to impede our investigation, they would listen to you to the exclusion of all others."

Shinzon rubbed his lower lip, "I see. You wish for me to contravene what may be legitimate orders from those that exceed your rank in order for you to pursue your own agenda."

"My orders come from the Senate." P'ris declared hotly, "No authority, save from the Praetor himself, exceeds that mandate."

"Except for me in this particular case it seems." Shinzon mused.

"There does seem to be this one exception." P'ris allowed.

"There's always one." Shinzon gloated, "And what do our Federation visitors have to say about these matters?"

"I'd have to say that you're too smart to be played for a fool." Macen said, "That leaves two possibilities: you're involved in what's going on or you're blithely unaware. You don't strike me as the blithely unaware type. Your comrades are going to face justice. I give you my vow on that."

"I won't ask you to surrender the names of your confederates. I merely ask that you give that aforementioned order, that and you provide transportation for us to the Tal Shiar base secreted on the dayside of this world. You can extract yourself from a situation that I strongly suspect was merely a diversion for you and your forces."

"You don't ask for much at all." Shinzon commented with a trace of a smile, "But I will accede to your requests." He steepled his fingers and continued, "You've made some very wise requests Commander. Your insights into the Reman motives are very perceptive, as are your expectations of a hostile welcome. The Reman Battalions across the Star Empire have indeed been ordered to kill you on sight. My orders, will of course, negate this danger. Here, the base you seek is guarded by a dozen plasma torpedo launchers and redundant shields. Any effort to breach its defences made from either, or both, of your vessels would only result in the loss of your ships."

"My men will escort you to the base in a small shuttle. They will allow you to pass through their defence perimeter undetected and access the base. Furthermore, my men will escort you on your assault of the base. They will have a mission of their own. The price for their assistance is to allow them to complete their mission without impediment. Is this acceptable to you?"

P'ris merely worked her jaw silently as Macen spoke for them, "We have a bargain."

Shinzon smiled for the first time, "Excellent! All depended upon your answer. I'm so pleased I won't have to kill you after all."

.


	10. Chapter 10

150

Another harrowing ride through the tunnels of Remus led to one of the closest port facilities on the surface of the planet. The port was primarily geared towards lifting modular cargo containers to awaiting transports in orbit. It also berthed several shuttles and shuttlepods for transporting individuals. Ayrck led the team to one such shuttlepod and boarded it along with Khimar.

Once everyone was loaded into the shuttlepod, Ayrck requested clearance to depart. Shinzon's personal authorisation granted them immediate departure clearance. The pod lifted and Ayrck laid in a course halfway across the globe. Both Ayrck and Khimar donned protective goggles and then engaged the pod's impulse engines.

As they circumnavigated the globe, the system's primary became visible over the horizon. The sensor glasses worn by the away team now served their secondary purpose and acted as solar shields. The imaging capabilities of the glasses were still engaged and granted everyone a far better look at the sunbeaten world below them then they could have received from the naked eye.

Below them stretched the stark, rugged landscape of Remus. It was a collage of wildly varying geological formations. Millennia of solar bombardment had left its stain upon the terrain as assuredly as any mechanically produced orbital bombardment would have. The shuttlepod flew over a seemingly endless sea of chasms and mountainous outcroppings before coming within visual range of a sprawling complex entrenched into one of the innumerable valleys.

"We have arrived." Ayrck announced.

"Shuttlepod _Nightstalker_, please respond." The comm panel came to life, "Identify your purpose and intention. Over."

Ayrck toggled the reply key, "_Harbinger _base, this is _Nightstalker_, I am requesting permission to land and enter. Over."

"_Nightstalker_, identify your passengers. Over."

"Myself, the co-pilot and four representatives dispatched by Commandant Shinzon. Over."

"Understood." The first flicker of emotion could be heard at last, "Please wait while your request is being processed. Over."

"Acknowledged. Over." Ayrck switched off the comm's transmitter, "And now we wait. Shall I give you the tour, eh?"

Ayrck piloted the shuttlepod in a lazy circle over the massive complex. The base wasn't wide so much as "tall". Filling the cavernous valley, the base was easily over a kilometre deep. Plasma torpedo launchers ringed the complex and shield generators studded its surface. Buried deep within the facility was a powerful cloaking device capable of concealing the entire base.

"_Nightstalker_ this is _Harbinger _Control, you have been cleared for landing on docking platform nine. Release your flight controls and we'll bring you in."

Ayrck glanced back at the team members and shrugged. Once nav control was released, the base's computers took over and began to guide the diminutive pod in. Macen wondered if the others were suddenly wishing that they would have been allowed to use one of the Romulan military shuttles at Shinzon's disposal. The idea, although appealing, was impractical since all of Shinzon's dealings with the Tal Shiar base were conducted via shuttlepods.

The base itself, as told by P'ris, was a redoubt. It had been designed as a last stand fortification from which to command and launch an invasion force to retake Romulus. It wasn't fully manned during non-crisis periods. Only a garrison force of a hundred select Tal Shiar agents currently occupied the base. These agents specialised in guarding the Tal Shiar's secrets. The only other residents were a dozen communication and sensor techs that monitored every transmission and vessel arriving and departing from Romulus.

Although the numerical odds clearly favoured the Tal Shiar, things were expected to proceed smoothly as long as there were no surprises. Of course, every member of the away team, and especially their Reman escorts, expected things to go awry. After that, it became a game of averages. The least likely, and best case, scenario would have the team investigating and possibly arresting Admiral Valrik. The most likely, and least favourable outcome, scenario consisted of getting T'Kir to a computer terminal and allowing her free reign in Valrik's personal database.

The shuttlepod set itself down on the specified pad. The pad then began to descend, lowering the pod into a hangar area. Blast doors closed above the hangar and pressurisation of the chamber began. An atmospheric sensor within the pod chimed when the outer air mixture became capable of supporting humanoid life.

"Here goes everything." Macen quipped as the pod's occupants hesitated before vacating their seats. The Remans grunted with appreciative chuckles as they gathered their personal small arms. Daggit merely gave him a wry grin in reply.

T'Kir leaned in and whispered to him, "Remind me to tickle you to death if we make it back from this."

Knowing she'd discovered all his vulnerable points and how best to use them, he replied with; "You have to catch me first."

She thrust her face into his, "Just watch me, buster."

"Pardon me," P'ris interrupted, "but is this really an appropriate moment?"

Macen gave her a pitying look; "You've obviously never been in love, Commander. Otherwise, you'd realise there's never a better time."

P'ris merely snorted and returned to her preparations. T'Kir on the other hand tensed up, "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"That you love me."

"Didn't I just do that?"

"You told her that you loved me." T'Kir corrected him, "It's not the same thing."

"I love you."

"How much?"

Macen's eyebrow arched.

"Humour me. We may be rushing off to our deaths."

"We've rushed of to our deaths countless times." Macen reminded her, "There was never any call for a moment like this."

"We never faced odds this lop-sided in the Maquis. We always had a slim chance of survival."

"We still do now." Macen assured her, "You've never seen an Angosian or a pair of Remans unleashed. It's a pretty terrifying sight."

T'Kir smiled despite her misgivings, "Oh really?"

"Then there's the fact that there's no one else I would trust my life with. The mere fact that you'll be there beside me makes whatever happens worth it." Macen confided, "And to answer your question: madly, passionately, and with all my heart and being."

T'Kir took hold of his uniform jacket and pulled him in closer and kissed him fiercely. Macen wore a goofy grin after the kiss ended.

"Ah...the benefits of dating a rebel." Macen sighed, "Such fire, such ferocity, such passion... what a woman!"

They embraced again and separated to find the rest of the squad staring at them.

"Are you two done for now?" Daggit asked dryly.

"Never." Macen laughed, "Now, I must ravish her."

"I don't think so." Daggit shook his head but wore a smile.

"Oh, please." T'Kir clasped her hands together, "Just one defilement before I die?"

Macen, T'Kir and Daggit all broke into fits of laughter. The Remans exchanged knowing glances between themselves. Only P'ris seemed left out of the loop. Whether this was by choice or honest ignorance was left unknown.

After the laughter had died away, P'ris exited the shuttle followed by the two Remans. The SID members of the team remained on the shuttlepod. Their parts in the unfolding drama about to come into play. The airlock door opened and a Tal Shiar officer entered into the landing hangar flanked by two guards.

The officer, a centurion, greeted P'ris, "Salutations Commander. We had no knowledge of your presence aboard the Reman delegation's shuttle. We would have arranged a proper reception for someone of your rank if we had been informed."

"There is no need to stand on ceremony Centurion." P'ris informed him, "I am here at the behest of the Senate. I need to speak with Admiral Valrik as I have done with Commandant Shinzon."

"Is there a difficulty I need be aware of?" The Centurion asked.

"Only that co-operation, like that given by the Commandant, is required."

The centurion drew his disrupter, "I am afraid I cannot allow you to pass. Shinzon will be dealt with at a later date."

Ayrck glanced towards Khimar and both sprang into simultaneous action. Ayrck plunged his dagger deep into the Romulan guard facing him before the stripling youth could respond. Khimar threw his blade into the heart of his adversary. Distracted by the sudden deaths of his underlings, the centurion missed P'ris' sudden wheel kick that caught him alongside the head. When he came to a few moments later, Khimar was holding him aloft. Ayrck stood before him wearing an ugly grin. Behind the Reman stood P'ris, Macen, T'Kir and Daggit.

"Co-operate and you shall live." P'ris declared.

"Traitor!" the Centurion spat, "You've brought Starfleet here! You know this is our most secret redoubt in the empire."

"They are sworn to secrecy." P'ris replied, "Something I trust them to hold for they know something of honour and duty. Let us see if you do."

The Centurion merely glared in stony silence as P'ris continued, "My orders come the Senate. That means my authority in this matter exceeds that of Admiral Valrik. You owe him no fealty in this. Your allegiance is due to the Senate and the Praetor they serve."

The Centurion merely spat at her again and she waved her hand dismissively, "I am done with him. Ayrck, dispose of him however you wish."

Ayrck's grin became a vicious leer as he drew his blade and then virtually disembowelled the Tal Shiar officer in one swift stroke.

"Was that necessary?" Macen asked coolly.

"The death was." Ayrck replied, wiping his blade off on the still twitching corpse, "The method was purely for entertainment's sake."

"We're not here to 'entertain' ourselves." Macen replied coldly, "I suggest you restrain your impulses until this is over. We kill only those that require killing and only in an effective, precise fashion."

"This was precise."

"This was gratuitous and you know it."

"You were warned not to interfere with our mission." Khimar spoke for the first time since boarding the shuttlepod, "That includes our methods. Do not seek to hamper our sport in any way."

Macen began to reply but P'ris put a restraining hand on his shoulder, "We need them as allies, Commander. Whatever they do, they do on their own consciences."

"That's not how Starfleet operates." Macen was angry now, "It's not how _I_ operate."

"You never had to work with unsavoury allies during your time with the Maquis?" P'ris asked pointedly, already knowing the answer.

"You know I did." Macen reluctantly answered, "You also know I did my best to get those types out of the Resistance."

"Sometimes with lethal results." P'ris nodded, "Others you allowed to remain but attempted to curtail their extremist methodologies."

Macen thought that was a nice euphemism for some of the acts of barbarism that had been committed by both sides of the Maquis/Cardassian conflict. His cell, the Ronaran cell, had tried to curb the excesses of the other cells. His commander, Ro Laren, had been an honourable woman and a stickler on the rules of war. It hadn't been an easy example for other Maquis commanders to live up to. Those unwilling to attempt to abide by the strictures imposed upon them were dealt with harshly if necessary.

"So we complete our mission and they complete theirs and we leave each other alone?" Macen wondered.

"Exactly." P'ris smiled encouragingly.

"Nope." Macen shook his head; "I have another plan. T'Kir, have you found a computer terminal yet?"

"Not in this hangar." She answered.

"Standard Romulan military design calls for a terminal access point at the central 'T' junction connecting the hangar wing to the outer primary corridor." P'ris revealed.

"Then what are we waiting for?" T'Kir inquired.

Macen turned to Ayrck and Khimar; "We should stick together as far as the access terminal."

Ayrck and Khimar exchanged a look before Ayrck nodded his agreement. With P'ris once again in the lead and the two Remans serving as her escort, the team exited the hangar and proceeded down the corridor towards the central computer access terminal. The terminal itself consisted of a screen built into the wall with a flat-panel control interface mounted at an angle out of the wall. The similarities to the Federation's LCARS system were far too numerous to be coincidental.

P'ris moved in to activate the system but T'Kir intervened, "Now, now dearie, I can read Romulan y'know." She then went to work on the data system. Within minutes, the screen had had begun to change and flash by at an incredible rate. T'Kir whistled, "This is so much smoother than Federation systems."

She turned and winked at Macen, "Easier to manipulate too."

"How much longer?" Ayrck demanded.

"Who the hell knows?" T'Kir shot back.

"They will soon send others to investigate the fate of that centurion and his lackeys." Ayrck advised, "We need to be prepared to respond to them."

"Too late!" Daggit cried out and opened fire on an approaching squad of Romulan sentries.

Khimar and Ayrck joined in with relish and soon the squad was decimated. The alarm, however, had been sounded. T'Kir sought, and found, an override and silenced the wailing bell noise. Macen turned to Daggit and the Remans.

"Ready for my plan gentlemen?" Macen asked. Not really expecting a reply, he let the question hang in the air for a moment before continuing, "How'd you like to be the diversion? T'Kir can reprogram the internal sensors to ignore P'ris, her, and I but we'd allow them to 'see' you while you pursue your mission."

"Why do we need him?" Khimar asked, indicating Daggit.

"Daggit's the best soldier I've ever worked alongside, including your own forces. I'm offering his services to you in order to guarantee your mission's success and the fostering of improved relations with Commandant Shinzon." Macen explained.

"We accept this challenge." Ayrck said with a toothy smile. He then turned to Daggit, "Come little brother, we won't let any harm befall you." As Daggit and the Remans separated themselves from the others, they proceeded down the direction the troops had come from.

Macen turned to T'Kir, "Am I a liar?"

"I've already rigged the sensors and the forcefields." She informed him, "What I'm having trouble finding is the Admiral's database. I can find him but not his database."

"Damn it all." P'ris swore, "Why did I not foresee this? He has a portable computer. He will only link to a mainframe when he is at Tal Shiar Headquarters on Romulus. That system is impregnable."

T'Kir snorted, "That I'd like to see."

"Whatever the case may be, the portable computer isn't impregnable. Let's grab it and the Admiral at the same time." Macen suggested.

"You are mad." P'ris declared, "The both of you, simply mad."

Macen and T'Kir merely grinned mischievously.

* * *

In geosynchronous orbit above Remus, Commander Donatra paced about the confines of the _Valinor's _bridge. Despite the Warbird's vastly larger size, it had a bridge module roughly the same size as the _Shadow's_. By comparison, that made the Romulan command centre appear tiny and cramped.

The command chair dominated the centre of the space. Laid out before the command seat were the helm and navigation stations. Behind and to either side of the command seat were the weapons and communications stations. Auxiliary stations lined the walls of the bridge area.

The helm served its obvious function as well as retaining control over the primary forward disrupter array. Navigation was nearly analogous with the Ops station on Federation starships. Most of the sensors were routed through the Navigation station as well as many of the shipboard operational controls. The weapons station maintained dominion over the plasma torpedoes, the photon torpedoes and the secondary disrupter arrays. Communications was a secondary station, primarily manned by Romulan intelligence officers seeking electronic intelligence, or ELINT, from the many enemies of the state.

Donatra gazed over the bridge of her ship. It had served her well these past decades but she had her ambitions stoked for a new posting. A new class of Warbird

Was currently under construction. Planned for even before the war with the Dominion, the ship incorporated hard won lessons from that conflict. In form, it did not resemble any existing Romulan craft in military service. In function, it more closely epitomised the Romulan ideal of D'era than any previous warcraft built.

A dozen of these vessels had already begun construction with more slated to begin building at an accelerated pace as soon as the slips were clear. Those first twelve captaincies were prized and highly sought after. The prestige that would go along with such a posting would be incalculable. Donatra knew that her service record and loyalty to the Star Empire placed well within contention for one of those ships.

If she were not given one of these new prestigious commands, then perhaps she would transfer to one of the new next generation _birds-of-prey_ currently rolling out of the yards. With Warbirds less frequently assigned to the border regions and beyond due to their losses during the war, transfer to a smaller vessel might place her in the heart of more action. There she could win more acclaim and guarantee her promotion to one of the new warships within a short span.

Her patrons relied upon her and she delivered results. That was the highest praise a Romulan Commander could strive for. Her career seemed on a meteoric rise. More troubling was this mission.

Her orders had been simple: to observe P'ris' investigation and derail it whenever it neared too close to one of her patrons or their interests. Despite her nominal friendship with P'ris, it had been decidedly easy for Donatra to agree to spy on her. After all, P'ris' official function on the _Valinor _was "to assure the loyalty of the crew and her commander". _That_ constituted spying and more in Donatra's opinion and turnabout was, as they say, fair play.

Her career seemed made. Only an ill act of providence could easily derail her ambitions. What was far more troubling was her situation here above Remus. She was out of contact with P'ris, unable to observe her interactions with the Federation interlopers. More disconcerting yet was the last ship to shore communication between the _Shadow _and her acting CO insinuating that a mutiny had occurred and been quelled aboard the Starfleet vessel. Her Communications officer had been unable to intercept any other comm traffic originating from the ship that could shed further light upon the situation.

_Dammit it all to the Nine Hells,_ Donatra fidgeted slightly, _What are they up to over there?_

* * *

"I'm not leaving the bridge, not while _she's _here." Radil hissed between clenched teeth.

"I can hear you, y'know." Grace protested

"_She _could have just as easily turned you into a little geometric shape as look at you." Danan pointed out, "She didn't. That counts for something. She single-handedly stopped a mutiny that was going to easily overwhelm us. That counts for a lot. Macen said not to worry and that he'd deal with the situation when he returns. _That _tables this discussion."

"This isn't over." Radil promised.

"That's the definition of 'tabling'. The matter is dropped until a future date." Danan said in her best professorial tone. In truth, she was too tired and shell-shocked to care if she stepped on Radil's oversensitive toes at this point.

"I think our first task is gathering up all... the crew and putting them in their quarters." Danan ordered, "Grace will remain her on the bridge with me to oversee the ship's systems."

"The _Valinor _has been hailing us for some time now." Grace informed them, "I didn't mention it before while you were deciding whether or not to lynch me."

Danan winced. That had been the mentality behind their impromptu meeting here. It was time to demonstrate that they were made of better stuff than that. They had to, not only for Grace's sake but for their own.

"Get to it people." Danan barked, "And be careful. Don't step on anyone."

An unexpectantly bashful looking Kort suddenly spoke, "Too late, Commander." He looked around at the others' accusing stares; "It was an accident!"

_How'm I going to file _that _report?_ Danan wondered but said aloud, "Hop to it then and watch your feet. I don't want any more fatalities. Who knows, it might be considered murder."

That seemed to sober them up as they proceeded to the turbolift. As the doors closed, Danan turned towards Grace; "I'm assuming you aren't even remotely human."

"That depends on how you look at it." Grace bit her lip, "My ancestors weren't but we became human in order to survive in this galaxy."

_By the Pools! _Danan's mind almost short circuited, _Extragalactic life living here! Waitaminute, what if they're hostile? What if their goal is to colonise our galaxy and exploit our resources?_

Grace rewarded her musings with a bitter smile, "I see you're playing out the same scenarios Section 31 has."

"They know about you?" Danan stammered, "Your people?"

"My people? Yes. Me? No." Grace laughed, "Imagine them discovering that their trained infiltrator had in reality infiltrated them and discovered all their contingency plans for dealing with her people."

That evoked a bittersweet feeling within Danan. She was glad to hear of this case of comeuppance on the part of Section 31 but was still frightened that it was a victory for this newly revealed stranger standing before her. The power and precision it must have taken for Grace to single out select members of the crew and rearrange their molecular structures as she did. That kind of ability invoked images of the Q, the Metrons, and the Organians.

She knew her terror stemmed from a hindbrain reaction to the unknown. It was a survival mechanism hardwired into most humanoid psyches. Social evolution was supposed to compensate for this reaction but it didn't always override instinct. Danan's reaction was doubled in that his/her host's reactions melded with his/her's.

"Why?" Danan asked without thinking, "Why did you lie to us? We trusted you, even after your connection to Section 31 was revealed."

"You weren't around for those particular events." Grace pointed out.

"And you're avoiding the question." Danan rejoined.

Grace sighed heavily and shrugged her shoulders; "I had my orders."

"That's _it_?" Danan sputtered, "That's all you have to say?"

"That's all I'm willing to say until Captain Macen returns." Grace declared firmly.


	11. Chapter 11

164

Daggit ran, trailed by the hulking forms of Ayrck and Khimar, in hot pursuit of a platoon of Tal Shiar sentries. In the first two previous encounters between the insertion team and the Romulan defenders, they had devolved into a pitched battle each time. On this third brush between forces, Daggit had tried a new tactic.

When confronted by the approaching Tal Shiar troops, Daggit had fired several times into their midst and charged them. So used to simply intimidating their opponents by their mere presence, the Tal Shiar guards had no idea of how to respond to this new situation and began a rapid retreat down the corridor by which they'd come. As Daggit and the Remans mounted a pursuit the retreat became a full-fledged rout.

Nearly half of the Romulan squad had been slain in the ongoing pursuit. Each death just spurred the survivors on further and faster. As they careened around corners and down by-ways, Daggit wondered where this was leading them. More to the point, could the Remans lead him back out?

Despite seeing the Remans in action during the war, he was still taken aback by their casual ruthlessness. Still, there were motivating factors to be sure. He remembered how badly he and his super-soldier comrades wanted to lash out at the Angosian government upon escaping their lunar imprisonment. The Romulans had oppressed the Remans for hundreds of years. That was a lot of hate to suddenly tap into.

Daggit's moment of reflection ended as the Romulans filed as quickly as they could through a doorway. Daggit slowed and came to a halt in front of the door. Ayrck and Khimar came up beside him and flanked the other side of the doorway. Khimar shot the access controls and the door slid aside, revealing a large, two-story exercise/training area... and two dozen more Romulan guards.

* * *

"Left at the next junction." P'ris ordered.

"No. Right." T'Kir tossed her hands in the air, "Ah, _frinx _it, we're lost."

"Ladies," Macen said with a wry smile, "is there any hope of a consensus being reached _before _Ayrck and Khimar complete their mission and take off in the shuttlepod?"

T'Kir cocked her head to one side, "Is that why you sent Daggit off with the Brothers Grim?"

"Mostly." Macen admitted, I'm also concerned with their ability to complete their task and I want to know why they were sent here."

"They will never reveal that." P'ris warned, "Remans are amongst the more secretive beings ever conceived."

"And coming from a Romulan, that's saying a lot." T'Kir jabbed.

P'ris ignored the jibe, "The Remans are taught secrecy from birth. They are immersed in it; it permeates their very beings. They see their secrets as an act of rebellion against my people. We allow them their petty confidences knowing that they will never lead to revolution."

"How can you be so certain?" Macen quietly asked.

"Despite the centuries of genetic manipulation and cultural drift, at their heart the Remans are still Romulans. They crave order and the stability that stems from obedience." P'ris asserted.

"Don't be so certain." Macen warned, "_Commandant _Shinzon seems far more comfortable with the role of planetary leader than of puppet for the Senate."

"Shinzon serves at the leisure of the Senate." P'ris rejoined, "He knows this."

"I wouldn't bet the agricultural colony on it." Macen chuckled darkly, "Shinzon isn't one to surrender power once he's tasted it. Neither he nor his Attaché are to be trusted."

"They will be watched." P'ris assured him, "As all potential enemies of the Empire are."

Macen knew where he fell under that classification and decided to avoid the provocation, "So back to the original question, which way do we go?"

'Left." P'ris asserted.

T'Kir swore under her breath, "Listen tribble brain, that's the long way around. If we go right we can reach the turbolift sooner and proceed to the twentieth level where we'll find Admiral Valrik's private office."

"But we'll pass by a security checkpoint that way." P'ris protested.

"It's a two-man checkpoint and we have three people." T'Kir was trying hard not to shout, "Who d'you think will win?"

P'ris studied the expectant gazes bearing down on her from Macen and T'Kir and finally admitted defeat. With a heavy sigh, she shrugged; "To the right then."

Macen and T'Kir's eyes danced with glee. T'Kir proudly wore a triumphant grin as she began to explain her thoughts on how to proceed next, "Now, here's what I've been thinking. P'ris, that Tal Shiar uniform of yours is going to run interference for us again by causing the guards to hesitate before firing. Macen and I will..."

* * *

Life had taken on a familiar rhythm for Rab Daggit. Disrupter bolts filled the air, as did the stench of charred flesh. He would fire several aimed shots into the Romulan mob in the training room then duck behind the doorframe. A volley of return fire would add the smell of molten metal to the fray.

The Remans had pretty much fallen into the same staccato pattern of fire and counter-fire. Although the insertion team was slowly whittling away at the opposition forces, their numbers weren't dropping fast enough or soon enough. The team was exceptionally vulnerable and in danger of being flanked at any moment.

"How many are there left?" Daggit shouted over to the Remans.

Khimar pulled a photon grenade from a recess in his armour and smiled nastily, "There will be a lot fewer in a moment." He depressed the activation stud and threw it into the room. Its three-second timer counted down and it detonated. The miniature antimatter/matter reaction levelled one of the guards' key defensive points, killing or wounding all who were behind it.

"Now how many are left?" Daggit asked.

Ayrck fired a few shots but was forced to retreat by the weight of the return fire,

"Too many I'd venture."

"This is ridiculous." Daggit said through clenched teeth, "It's time to take action."

Daggit rose from the crouch he was in and ejected the powerpack on his disrupter rifle. Slapping in a fresh pack, he also drew his pistol and held it in his left hand. He sighted down both weapons and neared the edge of the doorframe. He addressed both Ayrck and Khimar before making another move.

"Whatever happens next, capitalise on the confusion and try to end this deadlock." Daggit said then stepped out from behind the doorframe. He began walking into the middle of the training room. He began firing as he walked. He also began a seemingly erratic spinning, zigzag. He fired into the second floor as well as the first. The Romulans, stunned by this undreamt of tactic, failed to rally a defence before nearly half their number were cut down.

Ayrck and Khimar opted to join Daggit's whirling swathe of destruction. They came charging in, shooting at every Romulan that dared move. Overmatched and overawed, the surviving dozen or so guards surrendered. Despite the Remans' desire to the contrary, the prisoners were merely secured in the training room's equipment locker.

Their way now freed of obstacles, the trio set forth again on the Remans' mysterious mission.

* * *

The security checkpoint outside of the computer nexus node was manned not by the specified two troopers but by five guards. P'ris, prodding along two Federation "prisoners" at disrupter point was less than pleased. Fortunately, none of the guards had noted that although the prisoners had their hands up in surrender, they were still armed.

"I knew this would not work." P'ris hissed through clenched teeth.

"Quit your bitching!" T'Kir snapped back in a whisper, "Just follow the plan. What're three more bodies anyway?"

"You _are_ insane." P'ris complained.

"You betcha." T'Kir gloated, "It's one of my more redeemable traits."

"Ladies," Macen interrupted, "the moment is upon us. I suggest you refrain from further bickering or the opposition might get suspicious."

"Yes, dad." T'Kir retorted then fell silent. All of the guards were shifting position now that the "prisoners" were nearly in their midst. One stayed behind the computer console that comprised this station. She was flanked by a guard to either side of her. The remaining two guards took up a position across the corridor. The female trooper rose and addressed P'ris.

"Commander, I was unaware of the intruders having been captured."

"They were captured mere moments ago on this level." P'ris lied.

The trooper, knowing that Daggit and the Remans had last been encountered on Level Thirty-three, not here on Level 2, caught wind of the ruse being perpetrated. Her eyes flicked to the waists of the "prisoners" and she saw they were still wearing weapons belts. She began to cry out in protest as she reached for her disrupter but P'ris had already had her weapon out and shot her squarely in the heart. P'ris pivoted slightly and shot the guard to the dead trooper's right. Macen drew his disrupter, beating the superior reflexes of the last sentry at the station. The final two, caught by surprise, were no match for T'Kir.

P'ris sighed heavily, "What a waste."

"Death is always a waste." Macen replied, "But sometimes waste is necessary for survival."

"Pithy." P'ris growled sarcastically.

"And here I was going for 'trite'." Macen shot back.

"Now children," T'Kir suddenly smiled with all innocence, "Do I need to separate you?"

"We just need to reach the _frinxing _twentieth level and be done with this accursed place." With that said, P'ris stalked off for the turbolifts.

"Y'know, I think I'm starting to like her." T'Kir beamed like a proud parent.

Macen put his arm around her waist to usher her along as he rolled his eyes, "You would now that she's starting to act like you."

"Exactly."

* * *

Daggit leaned back behind the protective cover of the "+" junction outlet he was standing at. At the other end of the "L" curve of the junction stood what could only be described as a bunker. Gun slits were visible in the walls and there was a guard detachment walking post. The Remans had brought Romulan military-issue tricorders and were taking passive scans.

"No sensors are currently active." Ayrck reported.

"That'll change as soon as we start trouble." Daggit observed, "What we need is a way to distract them while we get closer. Can we pose as guards and prisoner?"

Khimar shook his head, "No. If you hadn't noticed, this is not a lockdown facility."

"I assumed as much." Daggit nodded, "I'm also assuming that the guards inside have been instructed to fight to the last man rather than let this position get taken."

Ayrck wore a carefully neutral expression, "That would be my guess as well."

The Reman's carefully phrased reply answered Daggit's question as effectively as a direct response, "How many guards are there then?"

"Four walking post and an unknown number within the vault." Khimar answered.

_Vault? Now that's revealing._ Daggit thought before offering a new solution, "Shall we try the direct approach? It scares the hell out of them and seems to work every time."

"Agreed." Ayrck flashed his teeth in a predatory grin, "Let us herald them into the halls of Erebus."

Khimar nodded his agreement and the three of them raised their disrupter rifles to their shoulders. Khimar led the charge this time. He spun around the corner the insertion team had secreted themselves behind and fired. His shot was true and the first Romulan fell.

Ayrck followed suit and also dispatched a Romulan guard. Daggit felled a third. All three shot the last roving Romulan. They rushed the vault entrance arriving just as the gunslits opened. Ayrck took hold of one of the sweeping rifles and yanked it out of the guard's hands. The slit promptly closed. Khimar merely sliced off the hands of another guard with his disrupter and his slit also closed.

Daggit was left to deal with the access terminal mounted alongside the door. He cursed as he activated the system and began staring at the unfamiliar symbols. Lost in the complexities of Romulan, he stepped aside and put Ayrck in his place.

"Just type in what I say." Were Daggit's instructions to Ayrck.

* * *

Bodies littered the deck outside of Admiral Valrik's office. Inside, T'Kir was seated at the admiral's aide's desk. The aide's body lay crumpled alongside the desk, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle. P'ris and Macen stood to either side of an interior door with their disrupters drawn and aimed at it.

"What's the status on the door?" Macen asked tersely.

"Workin' on it." T'Kir replied, tapping away at the aide's computer.

"He could be erasing all of his files." P'ris fretted, "We need access to this room."

"_Workin'_ on it." T'Kir was starting to get a little brusque herself. The data interface device she'd liberated from the first computer terminal she'd accessed began to beep. She pulled it from her pocket and studied it. She smiled broadly as she glanced back over at her shoulder at Macen.

"Daggit and the Remans have reached their goal." She announced, "He figured out that I'd be monitoring the network. They need my help to by-pass a security lockout."

"Hon?" Macen said as gently as he could manage, "We need this door opened _now_. The whole mission may depend on it. Think you could work on that first and help out Rab and the boys in a minute?"

T'Kir's mouth started to open but P'ris cut her off, "Damn it woman! Open this accursed door or I will shoot you in Valrik's stead."

T'Kir _harumphed _and stabbed at a control at her terminal's controls. The door to Valrik's inner office slid aside with a hiss. P'ris entered in high while Macen followed behind low. Valrik stood at his desk hunched over a case sized computer. P'ris fired, catching Valrik's right shoulder while Macen fired, catching Valrik's left leg. The Admiral collapsed to the ground with a cry of pain.

Valrik struggled on his back to rise. His efforts ceased when P'ris placed her booted foot squarely in his chest and aimed her disrupter at his skull. Her eyes were hard and unforgiving. Macen inspected the portable computer.

"T'Kir, get in here!" he shouted.

"I'm busy." Came her tart reply.

"This thing's bleeding data like a gutted whale." Macen described, "We need you to save what's left of the evidence."

"Okay." T'Kir sighed, "I'm almost done here."

"Sooner would be better than later." Macen urged, trying not to lose his temper.

T'Kir appeared in the doorway, "So, is anyone planning on shooting me?"

"You know I've only _planned _on it." Macen retorted.

T'Kir stuck out her tongue at him and fixed her gaze upon P'ris, "Well? I'm waiting and your data is slipping away."

P'ris visibly reined herself in and pressed her foot down harder into the Admiral's chest, "I apologise. If I shoot anyone, it shall be this treacherous viper."

Mollified, T'Kir sat down in front of the computer and began entering commands. Valrik sputtered indignantly and spoke while gasping for air, "Traitor? You call me a traitor? You've brought the Federation to one of our most secure and secret installations and you call me a traitor?"

"It seems I am a part of a fleeting minority." P'ris replied, her venomous rage never abating; "I learned something during this last war. We were stronger _because _of our alliances rather than weakened by them. That flies in the face of the wisdom of a thousand years but it is true. We need to learn from this lesson and grow. The Federation has offered other joint ventures such as this one, ones that shall benefit both our societies. We should take them up on their offers. The Klingons are offering terms of reproachment, signalling a desire to end decades of conflict between us. That would free us to rebuild our fleets and our infrastructure. And all of this would only cost us a measure of our pride."

P'ris forced the air out his lungs as she stomped down, "What is more sane, _Admiral_? Giving proscribed weapons to unreliable allies or co-operating with known entities?"

"You treacherous bitch." Valrik hissed through clenched teeth, "For all your highborn pretensions and mannerisms, you're still that gullible little gutter snipe that Koval found and moulded into a Tal Shiar agent. Only now, your loyalty is divided isn't it? You're having to choose between the Tal Shiar and your new-found alien masters."

P'ris thumbed up the intensity setting of her disrupter and aimed it at Valrik. The Admiral showed no fear. He merely leered, victoriously, at her. Her finger began to depress the firing stud on her weapon when Macen's voice intervened with a warning.

"You do this Commander and you won't find justice."

"But it is the Romulan way." She said icily.

"Maybe." Macen allowed, "But I just heard a very stirring speech on how and why the Romulans need to re-evaluate some of their traditions. Maybe this is one of those?"

Valrik cackled as P'ris lowered the intensity of her disrupter and the killing intensity within her ebbed. Macen came to kneel next to the prostrated admiral.

"I'd be a lot more cautious if I were you." Macen warned in menacingly steel tones, "The Commander wants you alive for her case. My personal opinion is that we can get by just as easily with your private database. This makes you expendable. She may have dreams of a better tomorrow but I have to deal with today. And for today, the reality is that you're my enemy. I don't have many enemies that are still capable of breathing."

Macen patted Valrik on the top of his head, "Consider yourself warned."

P'ris shot Macen a quizzical glance as he rose. Macen ignored her and proceeded to the Admiral's desk, where T'Kir sat furiously tapping away at the portable computer's controls. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and she was chewing on her lower lip. Macen found the image irresistibly adorable.

"Any progress?" he asked, leaning over her.

"I've stopped the deletion process and have already recovered most of the lost files." She announced proudly, her eyes bright; "Am I good or what?"

"The best." Macen concurred and kissed her on the top of her head.

"You should see some of the stuff in here." T'Kir told him, "He's got files on everything and everybody."

"Excuse me," P'ris interrupted, "but you have stopped the tapeworm program from destroying the data files we require and have already reacquired the bulk of the 'lost' files?"

"Yeah," T'Kir answered, slightly confused; "I just said that."

"Can a Tal Shiar technician proceed from this point onward?"

"You could proceed from this point onward." T'Kir unsuccessfully tried to keep the edge out of her voice.

"Then suspend your work."

"Why?" T'Kir demanded.

"_Now_!" P'ris commanded, "Prepare the unit for transport and let us be away from here before we are discovered."

Although a sound argument, Macen sensed the lie behind her words. Even without her telepathy, T'Kir did as well. The computer's files held secrets more precious to the Tal Shiar than even the existence of this fortress. Macen felt the light touch of T'Kir's mind on his and he instructed her to accede to P'ris' demands.

Disgruntled as she was, T'Kir secured the computer and closed it into its case-like configuration for easy transport. P'ris removed her foot from Valrik's chest and Macen helped the wounded man to his feet. Once up, Valrik made a grab for Macen's holstered disrupter. Macen sidestepped the Admiral's reach and cold-cocked Valrik in the nose.

The admiral spiralled backwards, arms pinwheeling and he landed on his posterior.

Macen rubbed the knuckles of his right hand and watched Valrik gently probe his smashed nose, "Y'know, one in awhile it can be strangely satisfying to just beat up the deserving."

T'Kir patted him on the shoulder, "Aren't you gonna have one helluva a karmic debt to pay when your turn comes?"

"I, for one, am righteous and pure." Macen preened for effect.

"As if." T'Kir guffawed.

"Get up you worthless piece of trash." P'ris waved her disrupter at Valrik, "On your own this time." P'ris spared a heartbeat to glance back towards Macen and T'Kir, "Is the system ready for transport?"

"Damn skippy." T'Kir reported happily.

P'ris sighed, "I'll take that as a yes."

Macen drew his disrupter from his holster, "Back the same way we came?"

"No additional alerts have been raised." P'ris observed, "I would say we have avoided detection thus far."

"Let me check." T'Kir consulted her information access device, "Yup. We're clear. They're busy mustering everything they have left to throw at Daggit, Ayrck and Khimar."

"Can we warn them?"

"Look who you're talking to."

"And then we depart." P'ris urged.

"Yah, yah." T'Kir waved and got to work.


	12. Chapter 12

179

Commander Donatra sat in her office and replayed the Admiral's message yet again. Her orders had changed. She was now to arrest P'ris on sight and destroy the _Shadow _as soon as possible. Macen and T'Kir would be taken into custody and handed over to Military Intelligence.

The Commander leaned back in her chair and let out a deep sigh. She had choices to make and very little information upon which to base her decisions. In combat, the goal was simple: strike out at the enemy. All she had to do here was determine who the enemy truly was. It was a task easier said than done.

There was also a question of duty. Donatra had never shirked from duty a day in her life. It had been this diligence that had carried her to command a Warbird at such a young age. Her record since assuming command only testified to her adherence to duty.

The last problematic element was P'ris' letter of authority from the Senate. As she understood it, no orders from the Fleet command hierarchy could override those orders yet that's exactly what her latest orders represented an attempt at. The questionable legality of such an attempt was not unheard of in Romulan politics. What was unheard of was placing her squarely in the middle.

The questions outnumbered the answers and none led a direct path to _the _answer. To complicate matters further, she had no idea of when P'ris would return, so she had no idea of how long she had before she had to make her final choice. In the meantime, she could at least obey a fraction of her orders. She exited her office and entered the bridge.

"Raise shields and bring all disrupters to bear on the Federation starship." She ordered and her crew eagerly obeyed.

* * *

Daggit was gratified as the vault's access terminal registered the correct entry of the entry code. The screen shifted to an incomprehensible display of Romulan characters that he couldn't understand. Ayrck and Khimar, however, seemed pleased. The Remans exchanged eager smiles as they readied their weapons.

"Now we can complete our mission." Ayrck intoned gravely.

"None can stop us." Khimar stared down at Daggit; "None shall stop us."

Daggit held his hands up in mock surrender, "I'm not here to stop you, just to help."

"Good." Khimar grunted, ""You are an able and honourable soldier. It would have been a shame to have to kill you at this juncture."

_Versus later?_ Daggit wondered as he readied his own weapon. Ayrck retrieved a photon grenade from a fold in his armour and depressed the arming trigger. Khimar opened the vault's massive door while Daggit covered the growing opening with his disrupter rifle. He began laying down suppressive fire as Ayrck threw the grenade into the vault.

Khimar put his shoulder to the door and barely closed it before the grenade detonated. Khimar jumped out of the way of the door as it swung open on its massive hinges. Smoke billowed forth from the open space. A few dying groans could be heard from inside but there were no signs of movement.

"After you, Starfleet." Khimar said tauntingly.

Daggit placed the butt of his rifle firmly in his shoulder and proceeded to enter the vault. The stench of violent death hung in the air. He swept his eyes and rifle barrel across the guardroom as one. Seeing nothing, he called back to the waiting Remans.

"Clear!"

Ayrck and Khimar deftly moved in behind him. It was amazing how subtly a fully armoured being could move. The Remans brushed past him. They opened the door at the rear of the guardroom.

"Stay here and cover our line of retreat." Ayrck commanded before ducking into the vault proper.

_At least they recognise the possibility of getting cut off_, Daggit thought approvingly despite his disappointment at not being allowed to see what they'd come for.

* * *

The alert klaxon sounded and Grace rushed to her station, "Omigod! The _Valinor _has locked her weapons on us."

"Which ones?" Danan tried not to sound as scared as she felt.

"All of them." Grace replied ominously.

Danan activated the shipwide PA, "Radil, haul your ass to the bridge _now_!"

* * *

"All I'm saying," Dracas spoke as he carried an armful of "spheres" to Ensign Malideirck's quarters, "is that we all have our little secrets. Our little team's managed to gel together anyway."

Radil gestured with the spheres held in her arms, "_This _counts as more than a little secret."

"_Radil, haul your ass to the bridge _now_!_" sounded over the PA followed by the red alert klaxons.

Both Radil and Dracas dropped their cargo and sprinted towards the turbolifts. They separated at the two lift doors.

"Tell Danan I'll be in Engineering."

"Right."

* * *

The doors opened and Radil stepped into the lift and ordered it to the bridge. The doors next opened to reveal a portrait of quiet desperation. Danan was at Ops. Grace was sitting at her usual place at the Conn.

"Take Tactical." Danan ordered as Radil stepped out of the turbolift.

"Transferring weapons control to Tactical." Grace reported. Radil was inordinately pleased to see that Grace was buckling a bit under the pressure. Her unshakeable confidence had finally been rattled. Considering what she was evidently capable of, that was a sobering thought.

"What's our situation?" Radil asked as she brought the tactical station to life. Shields were up and both phasers and photon torpedoes were targeted at the _Valinor_. Radil checked her sensors and saw the problem even as Danan answered her question.

"The _Valinor _has raised shields and locked weapons on us." She paused for effect, "All of them. They're also refusing to acknowledge hails."

"_Grozit_." Radil swore, "What's the plan?"

"I was hoping you could help Grace and I come up with some options." Danan admitted, "They didn't simply blow us out of space when we were completely defenceless, so that counts for something."

"Or maybe this Donatra wants us to sweat a little before we die." Radil grumped.

Ignoring the conversation occurring behind her, Grace hailed Dracas, "Chief? Are you in Engineering?"

"Surely am."

"What's your status?"

"Everything's right where I left it, in partial stand-by mode."

"How fast can we jump to warp speed?"

"Four, maybe five, seconds."

Grace shook her head, "Too slow, Chief. I need that taken down to one or two. Can it be done?"

"Sure, if I take every safety off-line."

"How long will that take?"

"It'd go faster with an extra pair of hands."

By now, Radil and Danan were listening in.

"Could you use Kort?" Danan asked.

"As what?" Dracas retorted.

"Send me." Radil suggested, "I'm an able hand in Engineering and Kort knows weapons systems."

"How?" Danan replied in disbelief.

"Kort's a former Klingon Defence Force Combat Surgeon." Radil explained, "His primary speciality is medicine. His secondary speciality is gunnery."

"Okay," Danan held her hands up in surrender; "I'm sold. Get to Engineering."

As Radil exited the bridge, Danan once again activated the PA, "Kort, drop what you're doing and report to the Tactical station."

It may have been her imagination, but she could have sworn as the circuit closed, she heard a bellowing, "_Yeeeessssss!_"

* * *

"Keep moving." P'ris ordered, accompanied by a jab into Valrik's back with her disrupter.

The Admiral, for all his years of overseeing tortures proved exceptionally squeamish when confronted with death. He had turned an ashen shade of grey. Apparently the Admiral's experience incorporated evisceration, sodomy, all manners of utilising cutting torches and phasers but he'd never seen a battlefield corpse. He'd barely managed to pass by the dead strewn about the corridors outside his office. He lost his water completely when confronted with the dead at the security checkpoint the team had dispatched.

Valrik's thoughts were unfathomable to all, save perhaps, T'Kir. His token resistance dissipated upon seeing the corpses littering the hall. It was as though his last hope of rescue had died with them. Then the unexpected occurred.

Two Romulan guards appeared further down the corridor, past the 'T' junction that the team was headed for. The Guards hastened their steps towards the team and it became evident that they would intercept the investigators and their prisoner before they reached the critical turn towards the shuttlepod.

P'ris reached down and lifted a disrupter pistol from one of the dead guards at the team's feet. She ejected the powerpack and handed it to Valrik.

"Use this as though you and I have these two Federation officers prisoner." P'ris ordered even as T'Kir passed the computer case back to her.

Valrik nodded but a spark of life returned to his eyes. Macen and T'Kir stood far enough in front of the Tal Shiar officers to be out of arm's reach. Inexorably, the two guards cautiously approached. As they drew ever closer, it became obvious that one of the two was in contact with another officer, presumably the leader of his squad.

Valrik suddenly cried out, "I'm being abducted! Summon reinforcements!" With that said, the admiral dove for the floor. He snatched a powerpack off the belt of a dead guard and rammed it home in the rear of the disrupter.

Meanwhile, the two guards went for their weapons. Macen pulled his own disrupter free and opened fire on the female guard already aiming at him. T'Kir snapped her pistol free and placed a particle beam right between the male guard's eyes. His comm badge continued to demand information even as its wearer slumped to the floor in a heap.

Valrik rolled to his back and took aim at where P'ris had been when he'd started this gambit. She was gone. A sudden, sharp kick to his gun hand caused him to yelp and release his grip on his weapon. The disrupter skidded further down the corridor.

"I really would have brought you alive before the Senate to answer the charges I am bringing against you. Your fate would have been their's to decide." Her eyes narrowed and glittered with a hardness Valrik found cause to fear, "Now I am afraid you have outlived your usefulness."

That said, she placed a disrupter bolt into his forehead. She then turned to her allies with a defiant air, "Comments?"

"Not the first time I've seen a prisoner executed." Macen replied noncommittally.

"Hey," T'Kir shrugged, "it's a Romulan thing. 'When on Remus, get the hell outta there' and all that."

"You certainly do not live up to Romulan expectations of a Starfleet officer." P'ris confided, "Where are the sanctimonious lectures on morality?"

Macen graced her with a grim smile; "We're only Starfleet officers for special occasions, like when we're specifically requested for a joint-operation. The rest of the time we operate on a far less idealistic and a far more pragmatic basis."

"Then there is hope for our two stellar nations yet." P'ris concluded.

"Glad to hear it." Macen confessed, "Can we go now? I'd like to reach the shuttlepod before reinforcements arrive."

Chastised for her momentary lapse, P'ris nodded, "But of course."

* * *

Donatra gazed contentedly across her bridge. Her officers had responded to her orders swiftly and efficiently. Up to now, there had been no questions. She wondered if that would hold true as she set out to issue her next set of directives.

_Might as well take this plunge off the Firefalls_, Donatra thought to herself as she mustered her resolve. What she was about to do could be construed as a discretionary interpretation of orders or it could not. Her court-martial would undoubtedly settle that issue.

"How is our prey doing?" Donatra asked of the Communications Officer.

"They've shouted for help from Starfleet," the Comm/ELINT Officer smiled mercilessly, "but of course they were told that they were on their own and 'diplomatic channels would be employed to minimise the risk of confrontation'."

Donatra snorted contemptuously.

"Weapons officer, what is the status of our weaponry?" Donatra inquired.

"All systems ready and awaiting your command." The Weapons Officer reported eagerly. In all their years together, Donatra had never known her to be less than eager regarding the opportunity to flex the _Valinor's _might.

"Take the plasma torpedoes off-line and reset all other weapons systems to their minimal setting." P'ris ordered.

"We only use those settings for fleet exercises." The Weapons Officer felt obliged to point out.

"I'm aware of that." Donatra assured her, "My orders stand."

The weapons Officer bowed her head; "It will be done."

"Excellent." Donatra crossed her legs and fixed her attention upon the image of the _Shadow_ displayed on the main viewer, "By ready to fire upon the Federation ship in five minutes."

"The _Valinor_ has deactivated its plasma torpedoes." Kort reported

"I knew it had to be a mistake." Grace commented, "It has to be."

"All their other weapons systems are locked on us." Kort reminded her with a sinister grin.

"Grace?" Danan spoke up, "You put down the mutiny in a rather dramatic and... unique fashion. Could you intervene here as well?"

"Yes. Probably. I don't know." Grace struggled to answer; "I'm just not sure how."

"_Think of something!_" Danan demanded.

Rattled, Grace fumbled to get her Attuner out of her pocket, "Yeah, maybe... I got it!"

She depressed the activation stud and the lights came on and... nothing.

"And?" Danan inquired.

"All taken care of." Grace assured her.

"You're certain?"

"Oh, yeah." Grace replied breezily but inwardly added, _At least I hope so._

* * *

Ayrck and Khimar returned from their searching of the innards of the vault in time to run into a troubled looking Daggit headed into the vault, "We've got trouble."

Ayrck and Khimar grunted and set down the deposit boxes they were carrying. Ayrck spoke first, "What trouble do you speak of?"

"The guards are on approach from all sides." Daggit warned, "I've shut the main door and stacked the weapons and distributed them along the gunslits' field of fire."

Khimar grunted, "You've done well to prepare for a siege, but perhaps we could have broken their ranks and escaped."

Daggit shook his head, "Check the bunker's sensor nets yourself. They've thrown virtually every remaining guard at us."

"Then let us trim their numbers down to a manageable horde." Ayrck wore an eager smile.

_They relish this,_ Daggit belatedly realised, _I only hope they don't get me killed._

* * *

Donatra excused herself from the bridge and retired to her ready room. She'd ordered her communications officer to hail the _Shadow_ and patch it in here. She was amused to learn that the Federation ship's Klingon doctor had answered the hail. Taken in light of the earlier communications interception indicating there had been a mutiny aboard, it seemed the ship's officers had been forced to resort to drastic measures to maintain order on their vessel. Why else would they put a medical officer at tactical?

Not that she could fathom having a Klingon medical officer in the first place.

Danan's haggard face finally appeared on Donatra's comm screen. It appeared that the commander was taking the call on the main bridge. Donatra knew that her own communications officer was probably tapping into this conversation as well. _At least it will settle the bridge crew's questions, _she thought wryly.

"_Jolan'tru_ Commander." Donatra purposefully used the familiar greeting to ease some of Danan's evident tensions. It didn't work very well.

"What the hell are you playing at, Commander?" Danan, who had nothing to lose anyway, demanded.

"A training exercise." Donatra replied.

"Couldn't you have warned us before scaring the life out of my people?" Danan asked warily.

"Let me be perfectly candid with you, Commander." Donatra said with a serene composure, "My superiors have ordered your complete and total destruction. It is only my choice to interpret these orders as pertaining to a simulated attack rather than arouse an interstellar incident so close on the heels of the Great War against the Dominion that is keeping you alive. Do not force me to reconsider my decisions."

Danan looked nonplussed as she considered her next words more carefully, "Your considerations on the matter are greatly appreciated. More than you'll ever know." Danan hesitated then asked, "So, now what?"

Donatra chuckled darkly, "That would be the question."

"I have to warn you." Danan rallied, "You won't be able to destroy us. We've access to a previously unknown alien technology. This technology is now shielding the ship."

"I don't want to destroy you." Donatra sighed wearily, "If I did, no technology in this universe would shield you from my intent. My weapons have been reduced in intensity to their minimum settings. These are the same settings we employ for fleet manoeuvres It should be sufficient to allow me to fire on you, thereby obeying my orders, and allow you to survive."

"I like the sound of that." Danan admitted, "So when is this happening?"

"In one point four of your minutes." Donatra revealed.

* * *

"Grenade!" Daggit shouted and closed the shutter to his gunslit. The bunker wall shuddered as the grenade detonated. It was the third attempt by the Romulan guards to immolate the bunker's defenders. The bunker itself was proving to be durably resistant to the multiple attacks.

"Now comes the charge." Ayrck reminded him unnecessarily. Ayrck had the centre position at the door. Khimar had the left and Daggit manned the right defence point. After every grenade attack came a mass charge. So far, the insertion team had repelled every attempt to access the bunker. They'd cut a large swathe out of the opposition's numbers in the process.

The Remans hooted in enjoyment over the slaughter laid out before them. Bodies lay slumped and prostrate on the deck. The survivors and the as of yet untested guards heaped the bodies of their fallen comrades for use as cover in the exposed corridors. The bubble like protrusion of the bunker granting the defenders near total visibility and control of the approaches.

"We need to break out of here." Daggit insisted.

"No." Khimar replied flatly, "We do not."

"We can't hold this position indefinitely."

"We needn't bother." Ayrck promised, "Let us repel one more fools' charge and then we can withdraw."

Although the stench of death could not faze Daggit while he was in his "combat mode", the situation was beginning to appal him. Enough of the enemy had been killed or crippled to merit a breakout rush. They'd faced and broken equal odds to gain access to this veritable prison.

"Here they come." Khimar announced happily.

Daggit spared a second to glance over at the remaining stack of rifles next to him. Rather than waste time changing drained powerpacks, each of the three defenders had a supply of fully charged rifles to draw from. When one rifle was emptied, it was discarded. A fresh rifle would then be brought into play. Fresh powerpacks could be inserted while the Romulans cleared their wounded and dead.

Daggit tossed one rifle and grabbed another. With his enhanced reflexes, he was able to selectively aim at his targets. The Remans preferred scything blasts that cut down all in front of them. It also expended power at a vastly increased rate. The Remans had depleted three times the number of powerpacks that Daggit had.

The Romulans' spirit broke much sooner this round than any other time previously. A few laid down near useless cover-fire bursts while their fellows drug bodies back to the impromptu barricades built from the dead. Due to his psychological programming, Daggit felt nothing for the Romulans. They were merely an opponent who needed eliminating.

Aryck grunted, "They're fleeing."

Khimar snorted derisively, "They may be thugs and bullies, but they're cowards when it comes to a real fight."

"And now, regarding our escape?" Daggit interjected, "I suggest we attack the right flank. I've trimmed them down quite a bit."

"Your efforts have been noted and appreciated, small one but they are not vital to our escape." Khimar informed him.

"Then how the hell are we getting out of here?" Daggit demanded.

"Follow us." Ayrck commanded and entered the vault with Khimar. Perplexed, Daggit followed. Once he was in, Khimar closed the door and reset the tumblers. The Remans then led Daggit deeper into the labyrinthine vault.

Daggit was led to the centre of the vault. Located here was a massive cargo transporter. Ayrck proceeded to activate the unit and program co-ordinates into it. Khimar busied himself by planting microexplosives to the control console. He tied these bombs to a minitimer. Daggit had to admire their ingenuity.

"Now, little one, we go." Aryck set the delay on the transporter and moved over to the transporter grid. Khimar and Daggit followed suit and a moment later dissolved in a halo of light. A minute passed, then another and then the timer sent out an encoded signal. The explosive detonated, destroying the console and any evidence of where the insertion team had beamed to.


	13. Chapter 13

194

Donatra returned to the bridge as the countdown to firing on the _Shadow _drew to a close. She retook her seat as the seconds ticked by. The last second counted off and Donatra opened her mouth but her weapons officer spoke first.

"Die human scum!"

Donatra rose and spun to face her enraged weapons officer. _The weapons are at minimum, the _Shadow is safe; she thought. Donatra's eyes flashed to the weapon's console. All weapon systems had been returned to maximum yield. Donatra drew her disrupter and shot her long time comrade in arms in the chest. She then turned to face the main viewer to witness the aftermath of the onslaught her crew had unleashed.

* * *

"Incoming!" Kort announced, "All hostile weapons at maximum strength."

"You're counter-measure better work, Hannah." Danan warned, "Or we're all dead."

"It'll work, it'll work." Grace replied in a harried tone.

The ship began to shudder as the shields were pummelled by a torrent of particle beams, plasma and antimatter. Kort barely had time to register the collapse of the shields even as it happened. He tried to inform Danan of their imminent doom but suddenly the unexpected happened... absolutely nothing.

"What the _frinx _just happened?" Kort growled, "We should be dead."

Grace stood and took curtsy, "Tah dah!"

Danan ignored Kort's outburst. After all, T'Kir's influence was beginning to show in all of them, Her attention was squarely focused on the _creature_ standing before her looking so imminently pleased with herself. Could they even hope to mount a defence against her of the need arose?

_One step at a time Lees,_ Danan consoled herself, _we'll cross that bridge if and _when _the need arises._

"Commander Danan," Kort's bass rumble snapped Lisea back to reality, "The _Valinor_ is hailing."

"What the hell could they possibly have to say for themselves?" Danan snapped angrily.

"I suggest you receive the hail and find out." Kort suggested softly.

_My, my, two miracles: Kort acting as the voice of reason and him projecting something other than bluster._ She thought to herself, outwardly she ordered, "Very well, Kort, put it on the main viewer."

An anxious looking Donatra appeared on the screen, "Are you all right? Do you require any assistance?"

"No we're fine. In fact, we're just peachy." Danan replied calmly then exploded, "What the _frinx _was that about? You said your weapons would be set at their minimal power levels. That was a helluva long way from minimum."

"I apologise." Donatra bowed her head; "It appears my weapons officer was a Tal Shiar plant. She reset the levels and fired on her own accord."

Danan sensed Donatra's pain regarding this topic, "I'm sorry. Had you two served together for very long?"

"Eleven of your years." Donatra answered stoically.

"And what's to become of her?"

"She has already been dispatched by my own hand." Donatra said with steel in her voice and eyes, "There is no room for traitors or saboteurs aboard an Imperial vessel."

Danan swallowed hard. The Imperial military code was inflexible. Because of their similarities to their cousins, the Vulcans, it was easy to forget at times that this was a warrior culture. In their own way, their martial traditions defined their society as much as it did their nemesis, the Klingons.

"I'm sorry." It was woefully inadequate and Danan knew it.

"Your regrets are immaterial to me. What is done, is done." A sly smile slid across Donatra's face, "What does concern me is how you managed to develop an interphase generator without our learning of it. That is a fairly impressive feat."

Danan's mouth silently worked, _An interphase generator? By the Pools! She means whatever Grace did to us. She must have phased us so that the weapons barrage merely passed through us. Clever girl, except it puts us in violation of the Treaty of Algeron._

"We didn't develop one." Danan confessed, "That line of research was ended when we handed over all the data and materials to your government."

Donatra's eyebrow arched, "Oh, really? Then can you explain what my own eyes saw. Need I mention that my sensors recorded it as well?"

_Ah _frinx_! Just what we need, an interstellar incident on top of everything else, _Danan thought glumly.

Donatra offered a lifeline of hope, "Let me say this, you choose not to report my ship firing on you and I won't report your miraculous escape. Sound equitable?"

Danan's smile was born of both warmth and relief, "Sounds like a plan."

"Then I suggest we return to awaiting the imminent arrival of the 'leaders' of this miserable mission." Donatra suggested.

"I agree. _Shadow _out." As the screen died, Danan sagged.

"She might be bored to death but I'm about done in with excitement." Danan moved towards the replicator, "Order up now. Who knows what disaster will befall us next."

* * *

The Reman shuttlepod lifted off from the redoubt without incident. T'Kir had been instructing the central computer to ignore the diminutive craft even as Ayrck, Khimar, and Daggit materialised in the hangar. The Remans had returned with a portable computer nearly identical to the one T'Kir's team had retrieved from Admiral Valrik's office. The Remans' sense of satisfaction with their mission was sharply contrasted by Daggit's taciturn silence regarding the events.

Daggit's behaviour wasn't out of character by any means. Rab Daggit easily had to be the most solemn man she'd met since being introduced to Aric Tulley. Being reminded of her former Maquis comrade made her reflect on his demise. The arbitrariness of it all could easily make one wonder why one good man would be killed and she continued to overcome impossible odds. Was it all a freak accident, a roll of the cosmic dice or was their some sublime purpose behind it all?

These were questions she preferred to leave to Macen. He was the philosopher of the relationship. T'Kir preferred the role of quirky counterpart. It fit her natural proclivities and served to pair her with Macen.

The shuttlepod traversed the skyline of Remus and returned to the nightside. Outwardly, all conversation had ceased. Khimar and Ayrck basked in the glories of their campaign. Daggit wrestled with whatever demons had been evoked by his time with the Remans. P'ris silently calculated her next move in her investigation.

_Well, that was certainly fun, _Macen thought to T'Kir

_Yup. Everyone but Ayrck and Khimar seem pretty bent out of shape. I haven't seen this many shell-shocked faces since the Jem'Hadar first hit us, _T'Kir mentally replied.

_Anything juicy going on out there in telepathy land?_ Macen wondered.

_How dare you, sir? I expressly remember a lecture recently given to me all about invading other people's thoughts._ T'Kir huffed.

_I was wrong. So sue me._ Macen replied, _Snooping's more fun. Advantageous too._

_ Just remember pal, _T'Kir warned, _once the genie gets out of the bottle, she ain't going back in._

_ Understood, _Macen acknowledged, _now snoop away._

The Remans were naturally resistant to her probes. She could gain access but they would sense her inquiries. Seeing as how their lives still depended on Ayrck and Khimar's good graces, she opted not to push the issue. P'ris' scheming bored her.

The depth of Daggit's turmoil over the deaths he'd inflicted surprised her. She'd never paid much attention to Daggit. He always seemed the impervious, good soldier. Now her mental sampling was revealing a new side to him that she found quite familiar. Ro Laren had also suffered as a result of the deaths caused by her orders.

Unlike Ro, Daggit's mind was highly structured. It was akin to a _Kohlinar_ trained Vulcan. The programming pathways laid out for his actions and reactions were so rigid as to be stifling. His inability to alter his reactions or alter their course literally trapped him within himself. It was a situation that threatened his very sanity.

Insanity was a topic that T'Kir was intimately familiar with. She suspected Macen was far closer with that than he let on. She felt her heart go out to Daggit. He was so isolated in his misery that he didn't recognise that he had kindred spirits close at hand. T'Kir resolved to approach him as soon as this mission was over.

_It's so sad. _She thoughtcast to Macen.

_What is? _He asked.

_Daggit._ She answered, _He's in hell._

_ He always is after a firefight. _Macen informed her, _He's been this way as long as I've known him._

_ And you haven't done anything about it?" _she demanded, _You're a "listener" for god's sake, couldn't you even have spent a moment with him?_

_ First he has to be willing to talk. _Macen reminded her, _Rab's a very private man. I can't order him to share his pain. He has to do that willingly, on his own._

_ That'll never work! _T'Kir protested.

_Worked with you. _He replied rather smugly.

_But I'm a mess._

But _you're a functional mess. _Macen argued, _A loveable one as well. And sexy. Can't forget sexy._

_ "Stop it. _she warned,_ Flattery will get you everywhere._

_One can only hope. _Macen thought suggestively

_Right here, right now? _T'Kir asked with fervour.

"_Who'd notice?_

T'Kir replied with a mental laugh, _I must be getting too "normal". I'm actually _

_going to be the one to suggest that we wait until we're back aboard the _Shadow_._

_Too bad._ Macen thought wistfully, _The deckplates looked so inviting._

"Commander?" P'ris unwittingly interrupted, "After our return to our respective vessels, could we postpone our strategy planning session until my technicians have had an opportunity to retrieve the evidence from the computer and I've reviewed the salient points?"

_Yes, I'll let you buy time to plan your next move_, Macen thought as he answered, "Of course."

"Prepare for landing." Ayrck's gravelly voice suddenly penetrated the cabin.

_Here we go, _Macen thought, _Round two with Shinzon._

* * *

After yet another harrowing breakneck ride through the twists and turns of Remus, the team was seated before Shinzon in his office. The portable computer case lay on his desk like a trophy. Shinzon clapped his hands together and beamed at Ayrck and Khimar.

"Well done, my brothers." He said, "You've done your people an immeasurable service. You may go and await our guests outside. They will be leaving shortly."

While his attention was still focused on the computer, and the data it contained, T'Kir opted to try to glean his surface thoughts. She received images of a massive ship with spreading, talon-like protrusions. It was ship built around a single weapon, a weapon of terrible power and built for... T'Kir found her connection broken as Shinzon's attaché moved in protectively behind his leader. T'Kir's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared as she pondered launching an all out telepathic assault on Shinzon's mind.

_Steady._

Hearing Macen's "voice" in her calmed her. It frightened her how easily he could read her even without their telepathic bond. It made her wonder if he sensed how badly she wished to be off her medications at moments like this. Without her meds, she could crush the Attaché like a bug. With them, it would be a struggle but she was still confident she could win... at a cost. T'Kir subsided and shifted her attention to the ongoing conversation between Shinzon and her partners.

"I must thank you for your man's efforts on behalf of my troops." Shinzon addressed Macen; "His assistance had helped further the cause of Reman independence."

"I take it then that the contents of the computer you've had retrieved will assist this goal?" P'ris asked.

Shinzon smiled warily, "The eyes and ears of the Tal Shiar are ever watchful for fear of the slaves of Remus gaining their freedom. As a gift for your co-operation I will confide this: the dream of Reman autonomy is closer to achievement than ever before. It shall be achieved sooner rather than later."

Shinzon nodded towards the case that P'ris held tightly, "I see your quest was fruitful as well."

"I found what I came for." P'ris allowed.

"I have held to my part of the bargain." Shinzon reminded her, "Hold to yours: no Remans shall be implicated by your investigation."

"That was implied in our agreement." P'ris agreed, "I hold to my word. Always."

"As do I." Shinzon bowed his head in acknowledged respect, "Generally to the regret of my enemies. I trust we shall not become such."

"As do I." P'ris returned the nod.

"Very well, if that concludes our business, Ayrck and Khimar will return you to the transporter station."

"That is all for me." P'ris admitted.

"I'm done." Macen declared.

T'Kir still wanted to pummel the Attaché's mental defences but she bit her tongue and her "talent". Daggit's silence remained unbroken. T'Kir felt a slight telepathic pressure and the office doors opened to reveal Ayrck and Khimar's hulking forms. Her sensitive ears heard a slight chuckle escaping the Attaché's lips. A slight stiffening of the spine informed her that P'ris had heard it as well.

Gritting her teeth, T'Kir ignored this final jibe. Outside, everyone mounted their vehicles in what had become their customary fashion and order. The trip was conducted in its usual manner and they arrived at the transporter station alive but slightly harrowed for the experience. Ayrck and Khimar nodded their farewells to the rest of the team but Daggit received a salute of a clenched fist over the heart. Even more surprising was the relief evident in the communications officer's voice aboard the _Valinor_. P'ris ordered an immediate extraction and the two transporter chiefs co-ordinated the action.

Donatra almost sprang from her seat and rushed headlong to the transporter room when the communications officer reported Commander P'ris's arrival. She'd been a barely capped fount of rage since her being betrayed by her longest serving officer. Donatra wanted answers on how long the little trollop had been spying on her and she would have them if she had to tear them out of P'ris's hide. She wondered how the Tal Shiar commander would fare under her own methods of interrogation.

_Someone is responsible for this betrayal, _Donatra's heart burned, _and that someone will prefer the heart of Hell compared to what I will make them endure._

Macen wondered why he was giving up his disrupter and weapons belt to the armoury officer. He assumed he'd need it again before this mission was over. His career was filled with a history of _frinxed _up missions but this one was definitely up for the cluster _frinx _of all time award, and that took some doing. The situation rang too similarly to the Gulag mission that had birthed both his investigative team and the Special Investigations Division as a whole. In reality, that particular investigation had ended far short of uncovering the truth. The actual masterminds behind exporting political dissidents had escaped investigation and prosecution. Too many powerful figures had been caught with their fingers in the pie. With the Federation just beginning to recover from a costly war, it had been decided that turning a blind eye to most of the offenders would help ensure the stability of the Federation.

The whole experience had disillusioned Macen. Between the Federation's policies towards the DMZ and the Maquis and this subsequent circumstance, Macen's faith in Federation justice faltered. It was then that he'd decided to take a far more "proactive" role in deciding the fate of his suspects. As an independent consultant in the employ of the SID, Macen was technically free to treat his prisoners in way he deemed fit so long as it didn't violate any basic human rights law of the Federation. Prisoners had to be healthy when turned over to the authorities but that didn't mean they had to be happy.

The burden of daily command weighed heavily on Macen. The intricate and meddlesome details of authority did not mesh well with his personality. He appreciated being the Mission Commander and shaping the course of the investigations the team undertook. He wouldn't have trusted anyone else with that role. Call it ego if you will, but that was the truth.

Macen was a man of divided passions. On one hand, he was a devotee of peace and of orderliness. On the other, he was an adept of chaos and wrought destruction with little qualm when the situation demanded force. His inability to find a balance between these two extremes made him unsuitable for command in Starfleet's eyes. It was a major reason why he was no longer in Starfleet's active service.

All of these thoughts and admissions coursed through Macen's mind as his teammates were "escorted" by two armed sentries to Donatra's ready room. He did notice that the guards were slightly on edge. Their hands stayed close to their weapons. They also seemed more focused on P'ris than his team. That could prove useful if things turned ugly. How the hell they'd get off an entire Warbird filled with potentially hostile Romulans was another matter.

Macen felt a surge of concern coming from T'Kir. She'd noticed the same signs he had and detected his tension regarding them. He sent her a tug of reassurance and he felt her relax somewhat. Macen nonchalantly glanced over towards Daggit. Rab's eyes flicked in Macen's direction. He'd also detected which way the winds blew and was ready to spring into action. Macen was comforted by the thought of going into action with two of his most trusted companions. He'd faced and overcome countless campaigns with these two. If the Fates smiled on them, they'd do so again.

* * *

Donatra awaited the arrival of her "guests" in her office. She sat behind her desk with her fingers steepled together. The knuckles of her fingers had paled from the force she was exerting upon them. Her eyes were narrowed to angry slits and her breathing was carefully measured. She held her breath for half a heartbeat when the door buzzer sounded.

"Come." She ordered tightly.

The door slid aside to reveal P'ris. Donatra almost rose and plucked her disrupter from her belt at that very moment. Instead, her eyes flickered in the direction of the guards and she almost imperceptibly nodded. The guards reached for their weapons and the room exploded.

Daggit's elbow smashed into the bridge of the nearest guard's nose almost faster than could be visually tracked. He followed through by half turning into the man and slamming his fist into the guard's abdomen. As the guard began to slump, Daggit stepped back and caught underneath the sentry's armpit and threw the guard over his hip. The Romulan crashed to the deck and lay prone.

On the other side of Macen, T'Kir slammed her hand downward into the sentry's crotch. There was an explosive exhale and a whimper as the male guard started to slump forward. T'Kir spun on her heel and slammed his nose with the heel of her palm. As he staggered back, T'Kir caught the nexus where his neck and shoulder met and applied pressure. The Romulan's head snapped to one side and then his entire body went slack and he collapsed to the floor.

Macen stepped one leg in front of P'ris and pushed her over it with one arm wrapped around her waist. As she settled on the floor, Donatra began to rise. Daggit pulled the disrupter from his guard's belt. T'Kir yanked her sentry's disrupter free and spun and rose. Macen came up from the floor where P'ris lay with the computer case held out before him. Donatra levelled her disrupter at him. Daggit and T'Kir each took aim at the Romulan Commander.

"Seems we're at an impasse." Macen suggested.

"This is none of your affair." Donatra snarled, "Leave the traitorous bitch to me and return to your 'Federation'."

Macen shook his head, "I'm afraid we can't do that. We signed on to complete this investigation. This case may contain the clues needed to break the case wide open."

Macen looked down towards P'ris then back at Donatra, "I don't know what bad blood has cropped up between you two while ewe were gone but I'll tell you this, I don't have time for it. We settle this now or I take P'ris back to my ship and continue the investigation from there."

"You'd never reach the transporter room alive." Donatra promised.

Macen's eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, "Try me."

Donatra hesitated. She'd read the intelligence files on this man. He and his crew consistently managed to perform what appeared to be miracles. They regularly beat overwhelming odds and came out none the worse for the wear, the recent loss of Tom Riker notwithstanding. These facts gave her pause and gave P'ris time to get up from the deckplates.

"Donatra, I truly do not know what has offended you but I can assure you of this, we are within moments of catching those we are pursuing." P'ris said earnestly, "This computer contains files which must be accessed. All we strived for depends on this. Whatever ails you, speak now, so I may address your grievance."

"Did you plant the mole aboard my ship?" Donatra demanded fiercely.

"What mole?" P'ris blinked in confusion.

"My weapons officer was a Tal Shiar plant." Donatra practically spat, "Were you part of this plot to undermine my command?"

"I assure you," P'ris held her hands out imploringly, "I knew nothing of this. I disclosed my only asset, my comm tech."

"Then someone has done us both a disservice." Donatra lowered her pistol, "_If _you're telling the truth."

"Ahem." T'Kir cleared her throat, "I believe I can help clear this little matter up."

"You?" Donatra asked with more than a little scorn.

"Careful," T'Kir warned, "or I might leave you with a compulsion to eat _gagh_."

P'ris intervened, "Be warned, she can do it."

"So what do you suggest?" Donatra asked impatiently.

"What d'you think?" T'Kir snapped back, "I'm a _frinxing _Vulcan, for Elements' sake. How about I perform a three-way mind meld and let you two sort out your differences?"

"And your role?" Donatra asked cautiously.

"I play moderator and keep you two from duking it out." T'Kir shrugged.

"I agree in principle." Donatra allowed, "_If _no Romulan state secrets are at risk."

"I'll only be vaguely aware of your surface thoughts." T'Kir assured her, "Pretty boring stuff like what type of bath products you use. Which won't do me a helluva lot of good since none of it'll be available in the Federation."

"You are an odd one." Donatra observed.

"Ain't it groovy?" T'Kir beamed.

"How long will it take for you to prepare for this?" P'ris asked.

"I'm ready now." T'Kir informed her, "Question is, are you guys ready?"

P'ris and Donatra measured one another before nodding in unison.

"Ready."

"Proceed."

T'Kir cracked her knuckles and moved closer to the pair. She placed a hand at the temple of each woman. She took a relaxing breath then her brow furrowed slightly in concentration.

"Hold on to something." T'Kir said with an evil grin, "We're about to go where no one's wantedto go before."


	14. Chapter 14

207

Macen materialised in the _Shadow's _transporter room still rubbing the nape of T'Kir's neck. Although the mind meld between Commanders Donatra and P'ris had gone successfully, it had caused a certain amount of tension in T'Kir. She'd been forced to maintain a higher degree of focus than she was accustomed o in order to guarantee her own mental shields did not allow her to spill over into the union. Macen's ministrations weren't much, but she appreciated them and he enjoyed the act of giving.

"Mmmmm," she purred as he withdrew his hand, "don't stop."

"It's only a reprieve." He assured her, "we're back aboard the _Shadow_. If Lees' report of a mutiny was accurate, then we're likely to have our hands full cleaning up the aftermath."

"D'you suppose they've lynched Hannah by now?" T'Kir asked with genuine concern.

"I'd like to see them try." Macen chuckled darkly.

At the transporter controls, Daggit was exchanging pleasantries with Dracas. _Poor Dracas_, Macen thought, _pining away._ Although he doubted Daggit would reciprocate the Chief's affections, Dracas needed to reconcile his feelings in some way. Dracas had far too many pent up emotions for him to achieve any form of balance or peace within his life.

Dracas was an eternally conflicted soul. He was rapidly approaching his sixtieth year and still had no real firm grasp on who he was. Macen had read about the stigma attached to homosexuality on Ardanna IV and guessed at why Dracas had initially hidden his sexual tastes from his newly assembled teammates. Later, as time went on and trust grew, the secret remained. It was as if Dracas himself were ashamed of his sexual orientation.

Given his homeworld's harsh stance and even harsher penalty for "deviancy", it was understandable if he felt something like a criminal for merely existing. Despite living within a greater community that embraced Dracas' freedom to express his sexuality however he felt compelled to, the shadow of his native planetary restrictions lingered. Macen wondered what he could do to help Dracas resolve the matter for himself.

The team didn't need any more disruptions. If Danan's concern were any indicator, Grace's "little" secret was proving to be a strain the team's cohesion precisely at a moment when no dissension could be afforded. Although nowhere on the scale of Grace's revelation, Dracas' secret could launch a serious undermining of the team's confidence in one another. Although the Federation readily accepted homosexuality, not all of his team members came from worlds where it was accepted.

Statistically speaking, homosexuals were still a minority amongst the greater populations of the member worlds of the Federation. The average representation was eleven to thirteen percent of the planetary whole. One obvious exception was the Fabrini worldship. There, heterosexuals were the minority.

Despite Jim Kirk's efforts to reintegrate the male and female members of the society, they remained divided into opposite sexual spheres. Men donated sperm to the women who then filtered it and introduced it to pre-selected ova. The fertilised eggs were brought to term in artificial wombs. The children were communally cared for until age six, where they were sorted by sex and distributed to their "kind".

Although Fabrini was an oft-studied reversal of the trend that occurred in nature, it didn't present Macen with a solution for Dracas' dilemma. The Chief essentially needed to get in touch with himself. Macen could only think of one world perfectly suited for that. He wondered if its natives would allow Dracas to intrude upon their lives. There would also be a mountain of paperwork in order to get permission to get Dracas there. The planet in question was a "restricted access protectorate". It was accessible only to highly monitored scientific survey teams.

_It's a plan... as soon as the mission's over_, Macen thought to himself.

"Chief," he spoke aloud, "what's the situation? Commander Danan was a tad... sketchy."

"It's a good thing you're back, sir." Dracas replied gruffly, "Things have been goin' straight to hell. We've had mutinies, miraculous interventions, hair raisin' revelations, life threatening situations followed by more miraculous interventions. Quite frankly, no one aboard knows which way is up or down any more."

"Thanks for the head's up." Macen nodded, "I'll see what I can do about it. Put whatever you're doing on stand-by and head up to the bridge."

"I can head there now." Dracas reported.

"Good, then tag along with us." Macen smiled.

The entire team, minus Dracas and the returnees, was assembled on the bridge. To Macen's disappointment, they were arrayed in an accusational semicircle around Grace's station. Hannah sat there looking emotionally battered and worn. Her face brightened momentarily as the turbolift doors opened and discharged Macen and T'Kir onto the bridge.

"Captain!" she exclaimed like a drowning woman with a single lifeline.

Macen, exhausted from his experiences on Remus, found himself deeply disappointed with his team's behaviour, "All right everyone, break it up. This witch trial is over. Hannah, I'll see you in my ready room. Lees, you'll join us as well." He paused to glare at everyone in the room; "Everyone else will wait out here."

* * *

Grace and Danan followed Macen into the captain's office. Macen flopped into the chair behind the desk. Grace and Danan each took one of the two chairs seated before the desk. Grace looked nervous and scared. Danan was the perfect picture of Trill composure.

"So, who wants to tell me what happened?" Macen inquired.

There was no response; not that one had been expected so Macen made the choice, "Heads up Commander, you're on."

Danan recounted the events leading up to the mutiny and the actual, albeit brief moments of the revolt. She repeated her earlier description of the device Grace had utilised to both immobilise the rebellious crew and to phase the ship. Danan added the details of the _Valinor's _assault and Grace's pivotal role in saving the ship and all aboard.

Macen thanked Danan for her observations and dismissed her from the room. Outside, on the bridge, Danan was badgered by inquiries as to what had transpired in the ready room. Danan deflected all such questions and threatened to shoot the next person that asked her for privileged information.

* * *

Back in the ready room, Macen asked Grace; "So what's your side of the story?"

Grace's lip trembled as she considered her next words very carefully, "Please, Captain, I didn't want to deceive you. I had orders."

"From whom?" Macen inquired with a steely tone, "After all, if I have a potential traitor in my midst, I'd like to know who's pulling your strings while you're being circumspect."

"I... I..." Grace stammered.

"You still can't get yourself to say the name?" Macen's tone became harsher, "Your people are known as the Kelvans. I'm assuming that's where your 'orders' stem from."

Grace nodded and Macen sighed wearily, "I'd hoped we were past these games after the 'incident' with Section 31. I have to confess that I'm disappointed, sorely disappointed. That doesn't happen very often."

Grace made a decision at that moment. Her only chance of redeeming herself was to confess. In shallow rapid bits and starts, Grace began to explain her mission and her people's reasoning for launching it. When she'd finished, she'd enjoyed a cathartic release but still had no idea as to her immediate future.

Macen pondered the matter for several gut wrenching minutes before weighing in, "All right, I'm going to trust in _you_. I'll trust the same Hannah Grace that's saved this team dozens of times over and will do so again. There is one condition though," Macen saw fear in Grace's eyes, "if your responsibilities between your people and this team are ever about to conflict, I need to know it. No more secrets. This one almost turned your friends against you. As it is, you can still salvage your relationships. Don't let that opportunity slip away even though the most important bonds will endure regardless."

Macen gave Grace a moment to digest this before plying her with the next obvious question, "Are you ready to go out and face the music?"

Grace nodded but her eyes were still large brown saucers. He assumed she'd find her own footing. If not, he'd be standing beside her to help her along the way if she faltered. Grace was resilient and resourceful so he doubted he would be called upon to intervene.

They exited the ready room together and faced the assembled team. Expectant, and some wary, eyes gazed intently upon Grace. She felt her resolve start to crumble, then bolstered it. Slowly, ever so slowly at first, she began to speak and to explain.

Reactions to Grace's revelations were mixed. T'Kir radiated unabashed and unreserved support. Danan was the picture of cool acceptance. Dracas vocally encouraged Grace when she paused, one underdog rooting for the other. Daggit, in a rare show of emotion, angrily silenced Kort and Radil when they began making disparaging remarks. Finding themselves unable to forgive or accept, Radil and Kort became the holdouts in the group. It was to these two that Grace had to tailor her appeals.

"It was my sworn duty not to reveal my true nature and purpose." Grace emphasised, "To betray this trust would have been a betrayal of my people's very soul. I didn't anticipate any conflicts between my two responsibilities: the one to this team and the other to the future settlers from our home galaxy."

"If one did arise, which would you have chosen?" Radil asked with a sharp edge to her voice.

Grace answered with silence and Radil smiled coldly, "I thought as much. That would've been my answer too once upon a time."

Kort suddenly strode forward and put his hands on Grace's shoulders, "You behaved as honour dictated. None can fault you for that."

"I don't like secrets that can radically affect my life." Radil warned, "It makes me... _cranky_. Let's keep everyone's secrets the ordinary, everyday variety. Prophets' know I have enough of those I'm not willing to share and I'm willing to bet we all do. Let's keep those and dump the rest."

"Makes sense to me." Grace said, wiping away tears of relief while T'Kir fiercely hugged her, "I guess I started off, who's next?"

There was a general chuckle that broke the lingering vestiges of tension. Macen pointedly watched Dracas to see how the Chief would react to this latest invitation to unburden his soul. Dracas seemed to be weighing the matter when he noticed Macen's scrutiny. He averted his eyes and quickly withdrew into himself.

Macen cursed himself for the lost opportunity and began to manoeuvre closer to Dracas.

His moment of opportunity faded as the comm signal alert sounded. Daggit separated from the group and moved to the tactical station. Macen moved up behind him and leaned down over the seat. He could read the signal identifier designating the originating source as the _Valinor_. Macen had the signal transferred to the monitor screen at the tactical station. Commander P'ris appeared before them.

"Greetings, Commander." Macen opened lightly, "Something I can help you with?"

"Something that perhaps you and Lieutenant T'Kir and yourself may be able to assist me with, Commander." She replied somewhat enigmatically.

"I don't suppose it'd do me any good to ask what that 'something' is, would it?"

"Your questions will be answered when, and if, you transport aboard the _Valinor_." P'ris revealed.

"Figures." Macen grumbled then sighed, "Give us an hour to shower and eat something, then we'll come aboard."

"Thank you, Commander." P'ris practically gushed, "Your co-operation may very well salvage our efforts thus far and bring this investigation to a close."

With that, the screen winked out. Macen looked down at Daggit and shrugged, "A drama queen. Who would've guessed it?"

* * *

P'ris met Macen and T'Kir at the _Valinor's _main transporter. Both Macen and T'Kir felt refreshed from their respite if not rested. The shower had been playful and the meal had been intimate. Macen's description of P'ris' odd behaviour earlier had fuelled her desire to come aboard the Romulan ship.

The Commander seemed agitated as she said some perfunctory greetings as if by rote. She then led them through the bowels of the ship to a section neither had ever seen before. P'ris opened a hatchway and gestured for them to proceed through it. With a noncommittal shrug, Macen complied. Sensing no alarm, only puzzlement, emanating from Macen, T'Kir followed him in.

The room they'd entered was a small space whose every corner of wall space was filled with computer screens with access and control terminals. Placed between two Romulan techs and interfaced directly with the secondary computer core that powered this room was Admiral Valrik's portable computer. Although the two techs were working feverishly, the screens were filled with what Macen could only presume was indecipherable garbage. Unable to read Romulan, it was all indecipherable to him anyway.

"Can't read it, can you?" T'Kir asked smugly.

"You'd opened the files." P'ris snarled, "If you've done this, I will have your flesh slowly peeled from your bones."

"You told me you didn't want me to read the files," T'Kir shrugged, "so I re-encrypted them and unloaded any trace of my decryption software."

P'ris appeared ready to snap, then she sagged, closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, "What do you want?"

"Access." T'Kir rejoined.

"Agreed." P'ris consented, "But only to information directly pertaining to our joint investigation."

"Done!" T'Kir said as she withdrew an isolinear chip from her pocket, "I thought you might need this so I brought it along. You needn't worry about erasing it. Once I stop giving it authorisation to continue working at fifteen minute interval, it erases itself."

P'ris pursed her lips, "It seems that you have thought of everything."

"Not everything." T'Kir replied, "Life in the Maquis taught me the hard way that no one could ever plan for _everything_."

"Not even Commander Macen?" P'ris asked with some surprise.

"Truth be told," T'Kir whispered conspiratorially, "he plans less than most. He 'feels' his way through problems. He's just damned effective at it."

* * *

The next several hours proved uneventful but extremely productive. Senator Cherand was revealed as the final authority behind the weapons distribution scheme. A handful of Fleet admirals and dozens of junior officers were named. The Tal Shiar's entire network supporting the operation was outlined in detail. Even Shinzon's part in providing security at the depot's and casting a blind eye to the movement of material that his troops reported to him was carefully described but edited out of P'ris' official report.

"This is madness." P'ris commented after more than an hour of silence, "Cherand voted to authorise my investigation. Why unleash the hunter that will stalk you?"

"Two reasons." Macen said.

"Like she didn't think you'd actually catch her with all the other obstacles in the way." T'Kir chimed in.

"That," Macen picked up, "or it's a smokescreen designed to throw off suspicion when you go to make the arrest. She can claim she authorised the investigation, which only proves she has nothing to hide."

"Bitch." P'ris spat.

"You're Tal Shiar." T'Kir pointed out, "Aren't you supposed to think just like that?"

"I began my career in the Political Dissidents Section, where I was when we first me, and have since made my way to Internal Affairs." P'ris answered happily.

"Ah, Infernal Affairs." T'Kir snapped a jaunty salute, "The overseers of righteousness no matter what police force they serve under."

"I take it you do not appreciate Starfleet's Internal Affairs Division." P'ris observed.

"Let's just say I've enjoyed a little too much of their scrutiny over the past few months." Macen said with a roguish grin.

P'ris couldn't suppress a tired laugh, "Why Commander, if I had known, I would never have requested your presence on this mission."

"You did know." Macen replied matter-of-factly, "That's _why _you requested me. You knew I put accomplishing the mission before politics and even rules and regulations." His eyes bored into her's, "Now, you have to decide, how badly do you want to complete this mission?"

"What do you mean?" P'ris warily asked.

"How far are you willing to take this?" Macen pressed, "Cherand will undoubtedly have support, support that will try to block the investigation and ruin your career. Are you up to facing that?"

"My career has been under the personal scrutiny and protection of Koval ever since the Gulag incident." P'ris revealed, "I think his influence can shield me from a few embittered Senators. Cherand will stand trial before the whole of the Senate and pay as her peers deem fit."

"Hot damn!" T'Kir clapped her hands together, "Where d'we begin?"

"Now that I know which Tal Shiar agents I can trust, I can contact fellow members of the Internal Affairs Section and co-ordinate the arrests within the organisation and the Fleet. Cherand will be left to us."

"Us?" Macen asked sceptically.

"Yes." P'ris affirmed emphatically, "I will need more specialised support than the Internal Affairs Headquarters in Ki Baratan can provide if I'm distributing agents across the sector. That leaves you two. I've seen you in action and you are formidable. And besides, this is a joint operation, it should be finished with you at least in 'observance'."

"What about the local citizenry and the constabulary?" Macen wondered, "What's to stop them from kicking the crap out of us while we're trying apprehend the Senator?"

"I can provide the appropriate garments that will inspire the right amount of fear in the people." P'ris assured him, "Even military personnel will quail before you."

"Sounds good to me." T'Kir cracked her knuckles.

"What's the plan then?" Macen asked.

"You two will accompany me to the Senate chamber where I will provide the formal charges and take Cherand into custody for further questioning." P'ris explained. Both Macen and T'Kir cringed, knowing what the Tal Shiar's definition of "questioning" was.

"You will escort the Senator to an awaiting flitter." P'ris detailed, "If she attempts escape, you will pursue and disable her utilising whatever means necessary."

"You might wanna be careful with giving us such a broad strokes imperative." T'Kir warned, "We have a tendency to accrue a lot of collateral damage along the way."

P'ris responded with a rueful smile, "I had noticed that."

"So when do we begin?" Macen wanted to know, "Because if you ask me, and no one has yet, we need rest before we undertake this operation. We're all tired as a result of our misadventures on Remus. We should get some downtime and then pursue the Senator."

"Excellent suggestion." P'ris agreed, "It would also allow me time to contact my compatriots in Internal Affairs and set the wheels of the apprehensions in motion. Would eight of your hours be sufficient before reconvening here aboard the _Valinor_?"

Both Macen and T'Kir nodded and P'ris clapped her hands together and rubbed them in anticipation, "Then it appears our final hunt is set to begin soon."


	15. Chapter 15

222

All the members of the team got to rest as they rotated a relief schedule. Macen and T'Kir beamed aboard the _Valinor _at the appointed hour and the Warbird bridged the distance between Remus and Romulus. The _Shadow _remained in Reman orbit fervently hoping their modified ID transponder correctly identified them as a Romulan ally. With less than a skeleton crew aboard, they could only rely on Grace's "miraculous" interventions so many times before they took devastating damage. Grace herself had admitted that there were definite limitations to her Attuner's capabilities. "Phasing" the ship had nearly exceeded them and likely would have if they'd maintained that condition for any length of time.

Aboard the _Valinor_, Macen and T'Kir received a last minute update. P'ris had directly contacted the Tal Shiar Director Koval. Koval would arrange for P'ris and two escorts to be granted access to the Senate chamber during the day's session. Koval himself would be attendance of the session and would deflect many of the countercharges that Cherand's allies would immediately hurl as a matter of course.

The _Valinor _had already received permission to insert herself into orbit of Ki Baratan. The Apprehension team would then beam to Tal Shiar Headquarters and gear up for their task. Macen and T'Kir would the first Federation guests of the dreaded secret police to willingly enter the headquarters complex of their own volition. There was some trepidation but P'ris' assurances were accepted as being as inviolable as they were intended to be.

A surprising amount of trust had developed between the Federation duo and their Romulan counterpart. They'd literally faced death together... twice. Their time spent together analysing and cataloguing data files had revealed much of each other's technical strengths and weaknesses. The operational planning sessions had been the most baring of all. Their differing styles and preferences had each come to the fore and compromises had been reached that accommodated everyone to some degree.

It was a lesson in miniature of what the Federation and the Star Empire could conceivably achieve together if the barriers of distrust ever came down. More than the Neutral Zone separated the two powers. Ingrained patterns of thought and perception, shaped by a war two hundred years in the past, still dominated relations between the two governments. This, before all else, had to change before any lasting or significant steps towards co-operation and peaceful relations could be achieved. In the interim, it was up to individuals like Macen, T'Kir, P'ris, and Donatra to build the first gossamer steps to peace.

* * *

Donatra saw them off to the transporter room. Her eyes were filled with an unexpected apprehension as the transporter tech activated the unit and converted their bodies into energy. They rematerialised as matter in a transporter platform within the Tal Shiar's headquarters.

Stares and slack jaws met the Starfleet officers as they passed through the building. P'ris ignored the incredulous looks and led Macen and T'Kir to an equipment depot. Contained within were banks of lockers, uniforms, weapons, and various other sundry equipment. She motioned for them to enter.

"In order for this plan to work, you must garbed as a member of the Tal Shiar's most fearsome retrieval units." P'ris led them to a section filled with black uniforms similar to those that P'ris had worn on Theridan. Macen could feel T'Kir's lust as she surveyed the potential selections.

"These look familiar." Macen commented dryly.

"This is why I have little fear regarding my deposition after this case." P'ris revealed, "I rank amongst the elite of my chosen profession. My superiors value my skills and contributions too much to throw my services away for a political trade-off."

"And if I were you, I'd watch out for just that happening." Macen warned, "My career 'officially' ended when my superiors found it politically expedient to forget my record and focus only on what they considered an 'unforgivable' incident."

"And has it not proven to be the best thing to ever befall your long career with Starfleet?" P'ris asked dryly.

Macen remained silent so T'Kir spoke in his place, "That means you got him. Now, when d'we get to try on clothes?"

"Let me secure you two lockers and we can begin." P'ris explained and moved off to find the quartermaster... or whatever the Romulan equivalent was called.

"I can't believe we're doing this." Macen whispered to T'Kir.

"Jealous?" T'Kir teased back, "After all, the wild plans are usually your idea not someone else's."

"I'm not sure even I would have come up with this one." He mumbled.

"Sure you would've." T'Kir whispered, "Just to spite P'ris if nothing else."

"Gee, thanks." He said ruefully, "Nice to know I'm held in such high esteem."

"I'd tell you all the ways I hold you in high esteem," she said in a breathy voice, "but since we're undoubtedly being monitored, d'you really want to let the Romulans in on that much of our private lives?"

"Let `em take their chances." Macen replied with a devilish grin that nearly melted T'Kir's resolve. Only P'ris' return bolstered it and held it intact.

"Ready?" P'ris asked brightly, "I have two lockers designated for your use. You can place your uniforms in there for the duration of the mission. You can pick them up again after the successful completion of our task."

"No." Macen replied sternly.

"Pardon?" P'ris faltered.

"We'll leave this facility in whatever uniforms we don here." Macen informed her, "There's less likelihood on nanotech 'bugs' being implanted throughout our clothes that way."

A look of consternation passed over P'ris' face but she quickly stifled it and smiled, a little more warily this time, "Any more surprises?"

"Not yet." Macen assured her.

"Peruse and take what you wish." P'ris gestured at the wall of clothing, "But do not take too long. We are still on a schedule."

T'Kir immediately went "shopping". She went up and down the racks with little "ooh"s and "aah"s streaming from her. Seeing that there was slightly less selection for men, he concentrated on finding garments in his size. Fortunately his workouts with Daggit kept him in fighting trim and allowed him to wear the various items properly.

In the end, Macen retained his Starfleet issue undershirt, and communicator, underneath the rest of his apparel. Only given the option of leather pants, he'd opted for... leather pants. They were loose enough to avoid any constriction problems as a result of perspiration. With the pants came two mid-calf length boots. They were clasped shut by two hinges and Macen found them infinitely more comfortable than his Starfleet boots. Over everything was a leather jacket that was a hybrid between those that used to be worn by pilots and motorcycle operators. It possessed claps identical to those of the boots as well as an upraised "mandarin" style collar.

T'Kir, in the meantime, had found an entire trove of treasures. Like Macen, she'd stripped down to her Starfleet issue grey undershirt but had donned a dark forest green zippered front equivalent to her yellow Starfleet Departmental tunic with the throat zipped open. Over that she put a flat panel leather vest. She also wore leather pants and boots identical to Macen's. Her jacket was a three-quarter length, flat panelled, collarless duster. T'Kir bubbled with excitement to be wearing the uniform despite its obviously intimidating overtones.

P'ris smiled approvingly as they each made their presentations. When they'd finished she approached and added a few items to their inventory. The first was a pair of gunbelts, each with the requisite disrupter. Macen wore a wry smile as he strapped his on. T'Kir rolled her eyes as she affixed her's in place.

"And now for the most vital part of this charade." P'ris announced and handed each of them a helmet. It closely resembled a 21st century Terran motorcycle helmet, including the three-quarter visor and full-face modular face. That was where the similarities ended. After Macen secured his chinstrap, he lowered the face. The visor's Head's Up Display came to life. In the spirit of co-operation, the Romulan's had redefined the display's outputs to read-out in Federation Basic

"Keep the faces of your helmets down at all times." P'ris instructed, "Avoid speaking unless spoken to and wear these..."

She handed the SID officers each a pair of black leather gloves; "Your skin is too pink. We'll find you a scarf or something to disguise your neck." This was said to Macen and T'Kir was addressed with, "As for you, it completes the look."

A scarf was not to be found but a zippered black tunic identical to T'Kir's was found and he put it on. Finally, P'ris nodded with approval, "Now, we are ready. Follow me."

* * *

They were next led to a lift and taken upwards. The lift opened to an unsupposing corridor. P'ris ushered the pair along to a nearby door. The door slid aside to reveal a veritable hangar of small terrestrial vehicles.

"Is this real?" Macen asked aloud, his voice carried by his helmet's communicator to P'ris and T'Kir's communicators.

T'Kir whistled at the rows of flitters, aircars, airlorries, groundcars and lorries, and even, her pulse quickened, impulse driven cycles. She nearly cried out in joy as P'ris led them to one such cycle. T'Kir ran a possessive and lustful hand over its sleek curves. P'ris smiled indulgently.

"This is as real as it gets, Commander." P'ris finally answered his question, "Meet your vehicle of choice."

"_Yeeeeessss_!" T'Kir crowed victoriously as she pumped a fist in the air.

"May I ask why?" Macen asked, "Her reaction notwithstanding."

"These scooters are a favourite amongst the retrieval units." P'ris explained, "They are fast, manoeuvrable, and have virtually limitless range."

"Don't balk now buster." T'Kir chided, "We're taking it and _I'm_ driving it. You got the quad. I get _this_."

Macen could almost see T'Kir's gleaming eyes through her visor as P'ris tried to soothe any frayed nerves brought about by T'Kir's errant comments, "By rights she should be the one to drive. Vulcan reflexes are almost on par with their Romulan counterparts. It will be a sky and city full of drivers that can react at over twice your best reaction time."

"I have no problems with her driving," Macen confessed, "or with riding this scooter. What I have an issue with is: where do we put a prisoner if we apprehend one?"

P'ris looked perplexed, "It has never proven to be an issue before."

"Has anyone ever attempted to bring back a prisoner on one of these?" Macen gestured towards motorcycle-like vehicle with its underslung impulse driver and forward and rear canards. Theoretically, it was capable of supersonic flight... if one could manage to hold on.

"Generally the retrieval unit turns their prisoner over to a support team driving either a flitter or an aircar." P'ris detailed.

Macen's eyes surveyed the other craft. The larger vehicles, the flitters, resembled terrestrial jet fighter aircraft but were boxier and had passenger room for nearly a dozen troops. Aircars were slower and generally oval shaped. They were cheaper and in more widespread use by the masses. As with all aircraft on Romulus, their usage within the highways and flyways of Ki Baratan and the rest of the planet was carefully monitored by the _uhlans_, or military police.

Macen seemed quelled by P'ris' answer and dropped the subject. The Tal Shiar officer checked her chronometer and pursed her lips; "It is time. The full session of the Senate has begun. We must depart if we are to ensnare Cherand."

Macen and T'Kir bobbed their helmets in an approximation of a nod. T'Kir swung herself onto the bike's saddle with a sigh. She excitedly reached out to the handles and took hold of the throttle with her right and the "clutch" with her left. The left shifted through the pre-set, governed speed controls. Her feet rested on outcropped pedals. These pedals housed the flap's controls for the scooter.

Macen sat down behind her. The spilt level design and mid-back seatback of the rear half of the saddle insured that he wouldn't need to hold on to T'Kir. With someone he was less intimate with, such as Daggit or Grace, he'd refrain, but with T'Kir, he gripped her waist at the sides and leaned forward in anticipation.

T'Kir started the bike and it growled to life and began to vibrate between their legs. She rotated the throttle and angled the flaps for lift-off. The bike roared out of the hangar. The accompanying, "lead", flitter initially struggled to catch up. Owing to its greater speed and familiarity with the area, the flitter passed the scooter and signalled its driver to follow them.

Although unhappy at suddenly being regulated, T'Kir still exulted in the sense of freedom inspired by essentially sitting atop a rocket as it flew through a metropolis. Macen could sense her euphoria through their rapport. Knowing how deeply this affected her doubled his own exhilaration. In what seemed to only a few minutes, the rising edifice of the Hall of State loomed ahead of them. T'Kir's disappointment at this suddenly hammered at him.

_There are definite drawbacks to dating a telepath,_ Macen realised for the hundredth time.

_I heard that, _T'Kir chided. _How rude._

_Mind on the mission, woman,_ Macen thought back, _We have work to do._

His only reply was the mental equivalent of a raspberry.

* * *

The flitter began its descent for a landing in front of the Hall of State. After scattering a gathering of schoolchildren, the flitter landed before the steps that led from street level and the Grand Plaza up to the Hall. P'ris instructed T'Kir to park at a side entrance where most of the Senators had their aircars or private flitters pick them up.

T'Kir lowered the landing skids and set the bike down. As she and Macen dismounted, she pulled the isolinear "key" and pocketed it. They strode purposefully for the entrance into the Hall. The guards there deferred to them exactly as P'ris had said they would and opened the way for them.

Once inside, they bullied their way through the corridors to the central rotunda. With the helmets' visors tied into P'ris' communicator, they were able to spot her highlighted image approaching. The visors' Heads Up Displays were also tied into their disrupters. Wherever they were aimed was illuminated in the wearer's sight.

P'ris stopped in front of the pair and squared her shoulders, "You two look magnificent. There is no way to tell you from the genuine article. Remember, follow my lead and this will proceed apace. Koval has us on the Centurion-at-arm's roster. All we have to do is present ourselves and we will be granted access to the Senate chambers."

"What are we waiting for then?" Macen inquired.

P'ris flashed them a grim smile and turned to lead them to the Centurion, as she walked she instructed over her shoulder; "Walk one to each side of me, one step back."

It took a moment for them to perfect their lockstep. Once achieved, it conveyed a foreboding sense of precisely controlled power. The march was hardest on the taller Macen, who had to shorten his natural gait to accommodate the two women. P'ris and T'Kir were roughly equivilant in height and build, making T'Kir's efforts to stay in step much easier.

They reached the Centurion–at-arms and P'ris presented her Tal Shiar credentials. The grizzled old veteran nodded once curtly and motioned for the trio to follow him. They were led to an iron door guarded by two sentries from the Praetorian Guard. T'Kir's telepathy detected nearby snipers also monitoring the door.

The well-oiled door came open with the barest groan. The ancient manual lock on the door was thrown as soon as the door was closed behind them, sealing them in. The doorkeepers seemed apprehensive at the sight of the "retrieval squad". It seemed a reaction ingrained in every Romulan citizen. It made Macen very glad that his people had charted the area of the Alpha Quadrant that birthed the Federation some two hundred years before its birth and had seen a glimmer of hope in the civilisations arising there.

"What is the meaning of this?" a burly Senator with a Northern accent said as he rose and straightened his senatorial robes. A stir was passing through the rest of the assembled Senators. The Praetor cast a weary eye Koval's way but then quickly hid is momentary displeasure and impassively waited for the enfolding drama to play out. P'ris led Macen and T'Kir to the centre of the chamber, directly before the Praetor and the assembled Senators. The Praetor smiled indulgently down upon P'ris.

"As I recall, Commander, in your last appearance before this body, you were seeking authorisation to investigate the alleged theft and sale of trilithium based weaponry. Am I to take it by your appearance here now that you have concluded your investigation and are ready to make arrests?"

A touch of green touched P'ris' cheek as an embarrassed flush came to her as she replied, "I have nearly concluded my investigations, milord. I have now begun the process of bringing suspects in for questioning."

"By questioning, you mean 'interrogation'" the Northern Senator chimed in.

"Then what business do you have here, Commander?" the Praetor inquired, nudging P'ris along.

"I am here to accuse and apprehend a member of this august body." P'ris' voice rose several decibels, "They will then have the opportunity to affirm their innocence or condemn themselves when confronted with the evidence."

Several Senators rose shouting protests and threats. P'ris never wavered. Macen turned to face the major cluster of protest. He held up a single finger and held it close to his helmet's face. His other hand hovered near his disrupter. Many of the Senators wavered at this overt threat.

A smile played at the edges of the Praetor's mouth at seeing the normally fractious Senate quelled so easily. It made him wish the by-laws governing the Senate allowed him to utilise his Praetorian Guard in a similar fashion. It had been used as an intimidation force in past, despite all strictures, but not for several centuries. He inwardly sighed and refocused on the matter before him.

"Then make your accusation and let us witness justice being carried out."

P'ris turned and pointed at Cherand, "I accuse Senator Cherand of organising and authorising the allocation and distribution of trilithium weapons amongst foreign stellar nations."

"This is prosperous!" The Northern Senator shouted above the mixed protests of his similarly inclined peers, "Where's your proof?"

"My proof is found in the records of Admiral Valrik of the Tal Shiar. He was a fellow conspirator in this mad scheme to create client nations dependent on the Star Empire for arms and technical support."

"Where is this Valrik?" the rabble rousing Senator demanded, "Why was he not brought before us to face inquisition on these charges?"

"The Admiral is dead." P'ris reported flatly, "He was killed while attempting escape."

"How convenient." The Senator purred.

P'ris returned her attention to Cherand, "Senator Cherand, you _will _accompany us. If you refuse, we will take you by force. If you surrender willingly, we will forgo the use of binders and preserve your dignity for the duration of the walk to our vehicle. Choose!"

Cherand remained in her seat for a heartbeat, then ever so slowly she rose. She made her way through the rows of senatorial chairs and made her way to the central dais the Senators all faced. She nodded her acknowledgement of P'ris' authority and did not resist or flinch as T'Kir took a firm grip on her arm. P'ris prepared to lead them out of the hall when the Northern Senator, already up from his seat, made a grab for T'Kir. Macen intercepted him and jammed the barrel of his disrupter under the Senator's chin. The elderly Romulan gurgled slightly and backed up.

P'ris led the way back to the hall's main entrance. T'Kir followed, escorting the still compliant Cherand. Macen brought up the rear, weapon still drawn. P'ris lingered at the door until they were regrouped and then exited as a unit. Now P'ris led and the Senator was escorted to either side by the "retrieval squad agents".

In the Senate Hall, the Senators had leapt out of their seats and were convened on the same dais that P'ris had delivered her accusation from. Wearing a wry smile, the Praetor leaned over to Koval, "You always manage to find ways to keep my life interesting."

Koval did not reply.

* * *

P'ris marched through the main corridor of the Hall of State. Macen was to the right of the prisoner, hand poised over his sidearm. T'Kir was to the left, her hand free and unobstructed. With her right, she held onto Cherand's arm. The attack, when it came, was so expertly timed that if T'Kir's telepathy hadn't granted the arrest squad a second' warning, they'd have ended up dead.

T'Kir suddenly sensed massive waves of hostility and flashed a warning to Macen. Macen dove to one knee and called out a warning for P'ris to dive to the floor. T'Kir met Macen on the floor as two armed Romulans emerged from behind one of the numerous columns lining the Central Corridor.

Macen reflexively fired. The two armed assailants immediately returned fire. Their pattern was selective, primarily meant to force Macen and T'Kir under cover while keeping P'ris pinned down. After the first few shots were exchanged, Macen undertook a diving roll behind a column and he set about changing his angle of attack on the two mysterious assailants. T'Kir swiftly sought cover as well.

One of the armed Romulans stayed in position and raked the corridor with cover fire while the other man rushed forward and met Cherand. Throughout this incident, Cherand had calmly, almost blandly, stood by and waited to observe the outcome of the struggle. Now the gunman hustled her off down the side entrance where Macen and T'Kir had parked their scooter. The other Romulan continued to lay down suppressive fire with his pulse rifle as he slowly moved towards the adjoining corridor.

T'Kir chose this moment to rush the gunman. He swung his rifle toward her and fired off several bursts. T'Kir jumped sideways but it was too late, the first few particle beam pulses caught her in the side. She spiralled out of control as she lost control of her legs. She collapsed in a heap and lay there lifelessly.

Enraged, Macen stepped out from behind his pillar and fired a disrupter blast into the gunman. This was followed by another shot, swiftly followed by yet another. Macen continued to shoot the Romulan assailant as he crossed the hall. The Romulan was severely scorched by the time Macen came up alongside him and fired one last burst into the corpse.

"Finished?" a shaken P'ris asked.

"I haven't even begun." Macen vowed.

"Don't get pissy on my account." T'Kir mumbled, struggling to rise.

"You're alive!" Macen exclaimed and knelt to embrace her.

"I should be dead though. As it is, I feel like a starship landed on me." T'Kir accepted his hand and he helped hoist her to her feet, "How'd I survive?"

"The uniforms you are wearing are hardened against particle beam emissions." P'ris revealed.

"Rather like Starfleet SOBs." Macen said, referring to Starfleet's Special Operational Battledress uniforms.

"Quickly now!" P'ris urged, "You can still catch them."

Macen and T'Kir ran headlong down the corridor towards the side entrance to the Hall of State. They exited the doors in a high-low cover formation. In the middle of the alleyway they'd parked in, lay a stretch limousine aircar. It was just beginning its take-off from the ground and heading for the main traffic stream in front of the Hall.

Macen fired a few shots at the limo while T'Kir raced to the bike and started it. Macen holstered his weapon and ran to join her as she revved the throttle on the scooter. As soon as he was behind her and secure, she launched the bike forward at full throttle and gave chase to the departing limo. The pursuit was underway.


	16. Chapter 16

236

T'Kir swerved the bike hard to the right. They accelerated passed the irate pilot of the trailing aircar. He bestowed a gesture upon them. His eyes widened as he recognised the uniforms worn by the two riders moving past him. He began to pray the two Tal Shiar agents hadn't noticed him as he decelerated. The more distance between them, the better.

"I think you're annoying the locals." Macen commented dryly.

"_Frinx _`em," T'Kir replied tersely, "teach `em for getting in my way."

"In a mood are we?"

"Getting shot tends to piss me off." T'Kir growled, "Or had you forgotten that little fact?"

"Get me near that aircar and they'll learn how good my memory is." Macen vowed, "By the way, why can't we lift above this traffic and overtake the limo that way?"

T'Kir sighed in frustration, "Romulan flyways are strictly controlled. The scooter's computer and throttle are both being monitored and regulated by the city's traffic control system."

"So essentially we're stuck following the limo's wake."

"Yes." Came her defeated reply.

As it was, the limo was careening through traffic at full throttle. It was relying on its greater bulk and armoured hide to carve a path through the thick afternoon commute. The discombobulated drivers brushed aside by the limo's reckless flight found themselves all over the flyway's lanes, attempting to regain control of their vehicles. It was through this firestorm that T'Kir had to fly.

"You're the hacker." Macen reminded T'Kir, "Can't you do something to sever us from the traffic system's computers?"

"I can try." She _said_ through gritted teeth, "But it kinds hard while dodging half the flyway."

"Just do what you can."

* * *

"_Ki Baratan Traffic Control to Commander P'ris, please advise the suspect vehicle has been located headed northeast along the _Svyllian _Expressway. One Tal Shiar vehicle is in close pursuit._"

"Acknowledged Ki Baratan Traffic Control, this is Tal Shiar _Pursuit Two_ requesting permission to circumvent the standard travel routes and compute and execute an intercept course."

"_Permission granted _Pursuit Two_. Please advise _Pursuit One _to quit twiddling with her Control link or we'll ground them._"

Grateful that the irritated Traffic Control Officer could not see her, P'ris smiled at the mental image of T'Kir jigging the bike's computer link with the entire Ki Baratan Traffic Control System. The TCS held the inhabitants of Ki Baratan in as much thrall as the Tal Shiar ever did. One affected them on a grand scale, the other during a daily, grinding commute. P'ris suspected that the Tal Shiar and TCS' long-standing mutual affection for one another was about to take a hit.

_So be it_, P'ris resolved, _I undertook an oath to arrest all the perpetrators of this crime, whomever they may be._

"Pilot, plot an intercept course for the Senator's fleeing car and make way as soon as the course is ready." P'ris ordered.

"Yes, milady." The pilot replied crisply and went to work.

* * *

"I think I've got it!" T'Kir announced with some excitement.

"Good." Macen said with some relief, "At first all this dodging, swerving, braking, and accelerating was fun. Now I'm slightly nauseous."

"Never fear, babe," T'Kir reassured him, "we're about to pounce on the bastards and put an end to this."

"Let's do it." Macen concurred.

T'Kir rotated the throttle to wide open and angled the flaps to give them lift. The scooter ascended the level of traffic they'd been in. There was a buffer layer of one traffic lane's worth of height between the traffic lane they'd departed and the opposing traffic byway overhead. Exits were to the right of the flow of traffic.

T'Kir gunned the accelerator and the bike raced forward unimpeded by the obstacles of other traffic. Up ahead, and below them, loomed the careening limo.

"Bring us up along side them." Macen requested of T'Kir.

She began a dive towards the limo's general path. Macen unholstered his disrupter and checked its power level. T'Kir began to swerve side to side as she settled back down into the traffic lane. She was learning to anticipate the limo driver's zigs and zags. Feeling she had a basic grip on the driver's responses, she gunned the bike forward, alongside the limo's rear passenger compartment.

Macen began to fire his disrupter into the underside of the aircar, damaging the car's impulse engine. The limo swerved toward the bike but T'Kir braked, accelerated and swerved around an out of control aircar and repositioned the scooter next to the limo. Macen resumed his assault on the impulse driver. The roof of the limo's rear compartment blew off with the assistance of explosive bolts. The surviving Romulan gunman stood up in the newly created rear deck. He locked a metal pole to the car's deckplates. To the pole he affixed a pulse cannon.

"Watch out!" Macen warned.

T'Kir braked just as the cannon fired. The car that had been beside the bike erupted into flames as the particle beam disrupted the impulse engine's fusion reactor. T'Kir swerved behind the limo and Macen began firing over her shoulder. The gunman realigned the cannon for a new shot. T'Kir gunned the bike's impulse engine and began to climb. The cannon fired at where the bike had been but it was no longer there. A lorry took the intended shot. It too exploded.

The gunman tried to traverse the cannon high enough to fire at the elevated bike but it could not adjust that high. Not that it mattered; the bike was already in a diving descent. T'Kir aimed slightly to the left of the gunman. Macen laid down a strafing barrage of fire as they swooped down on the limo. The gunman took several hits as the bike came up just above the limo.

Macen leapt off the bike into the rear compartment of the limo. As he settled himself, another of Cherand's bodyguards emerged from the passenger compartment of the limo. Macen attempted to raise his pistol but the guard swatted it aside before he'd even brought it to bear. A staggeringly fast punch to Macen's gut sent him sprawling backwards. As he panted for breath, he realised he was in trouble. He never even _saw_ the last blow and now some hand-to-hand combat expert was waiting to take him apart.

_C'mon, improvise,_ Macen thought desperately, _"Outside the box. Anything that doesn't involve grappling with this killer._

Cautiously, Macen rose. Apparently, his opponent wanted to savour the event and was waiting for Macen to be up and ready before striking again. They guardedly approached each other. This time Macen saw the Romulan's hand snake out. It still did him no good, since he was still several heartbeats behind responding. He was struck in the ribs and they flexed, possibly cracked, but mercifully did not break.

Macen warily rose again. A searing pain coursed through his chest but he was resolved to get passed this guard or die trying. This time they approached each other and both dropped into a "guard" stance. This seemed to please the bodyguard. Under the helmet, Macen's lips were pursed in concentration, his brow furrowed. This time when the blow came, he saw it and was able to react.

Macen ducked. The bodyguard punched the hardened Tal Shiar helmet and cried out. Macen then charged forward, striking the Romulan's gut and heart with his helmet. He stood up quickly, smashing the man's lowered face. While the Romulan struggled to recover, Macen retrieved his pistol and shot him.

Macen then ducked down and entered the still covered passenger compartment. Senator Cherand sat in there, ashen faced and strapped into a chair. Another guard located next to the driver spun his seat around and took aim at Macen. Macen shot him in the abdomen, near his heart and he went limp. Cherand, if possible, lost even more colour.

"Do you know what you're doing?" she hissed, "Your career is over."

"A risk I'm willing to take, milady." Macen replied, to the driver he said, "Exit the flyway and set us down."

"Brin," T'Kir's voice cut in over his helmet's speakers, "something's up. The oncoming, overhead traffic is being held or diverted."

""Any official reason why?"

"Nope." T'Kir, "There's been no official announcements concerning it."

"It must concern us." Macen concluded, "Have you spotted P'ris's flitter yet?"

"There's a flitter coming in but the angle of approach seems wrong."

"We're doomed!" Cherand wailed, "We must flee!"

"Calm down." Macen ordered, "I have to bring you in but I don't have to bring _all _of you in."

Cherand settled down and sat in her crash seat trembling and muttering to herself. Macen couldn't make out most of it but got his helmet's recorders on it anyway. Most of her ramblings seemed to revolve around "Him" and "He will never let me live to incriminate him". Macen wanted to interrogate her on the spot but knew that was a job to be left to P'ris and her specialists.

Suddenly T'Kir's voice yelled in his ear, "Watch out!"

Disrupter bolts began tearing their way through the armoured canopy of the limo. Macen dove onto the deck, between the banks of chairs to either side of the compartment. Particle beams cut through metal, plastics... and flesh. The strafing barrage passed and Macen pushed himself up off the deck.

Cherand was dead, slumped in her chair with large burns across her body. The driver too was dead, the back of his skull a scorched skeletal remnant of what it had been. The car began to careen wildly. Macen ran to the rear deck and looked for T'Kir.

"T'Kir, are you all right?"

The bike and rider raced into sight, the rest of the traffic now held back in fear, "Thank the Elements you're alive!"

"Get me out of this car or I won't be." Macen advised.

"Gotcha." T'Kir accelerated and swerved in closer. She hugged the unpredictable movements of the larger vehicle as best she could. Finally, the aircar trimmed out for a few moments. Macen leapt from the back of the limo to the rear of the bike. He almost overbalanced and fell off to the side but managed to save himself with a quick arm around T'Kir.

"Hiya lover." T'Kir greeted him happily, "I take it there were no other survivors?"

"Nope." Macen answered grimly, "What the hell happened?"

"That flitter I spotted came in and strafed the limo. The moment it was done with its pass, Traffic Control released all the overhead traffic. It's so thick now there's no hope of getting through it and giving chase to the flitter."

"I can't say this making me very happy." Macen grumped, "We need to confer with P'ris. It's her planet and her bad guys. Any idea where she... oh _frinx_!"

The limo's primary impulse coil chose that moment to explode. The surviving clusters of the chassis scattered in an enlarging plasma fireball. T'Kir banked the bike hard to the left and angled the flaps for an airbraking manoeuvre. She then rotated the throttle completely back and accelerated in a semicircle until she aimed in the opposite direction. They proceeded unopposed for several kilometres before banking left and exiting the flyway.

* * *

T'Kir set the bike down on the roof of a nearby building. Even as the riders dismounted, the shadow of a descending flitter passed over them. Macen and T'Kir waited as the engines whined down and the hatchway opened up in the side of the vehicle. P'ris was the first out of the door and she headed straight for the SID officers.

"What happened?"

Macen pulled off his helmet and glared angrily at P'ris, "What happened was that someone else with access to a flitter and the TCS arranged an assassination after I'd captured the suspect."

P'ris looked to T'Kir, "Is this true?"

The helmetless T'Kir met her eyes, "I was outside the limo when the strike happened. An unmarked flitter, identical to your own, came from the west and got the TCS to stop the overhead traffic flow, presumably to get a cleaner shot. All in all, a pretty thorough and professional job."

"Damn." P'ris swore softly, "This is what I was afraid of. Someone, either in the military or within the Tal Shiar itself, has escaped suspicion and therefore arrest"

"Cherand alluded to that." Macen revealed, "She referred to a man that would kill her to prevent discovery."

"If only we could have analysed even that much of her confession."

Macen grinned, "I had my helmet recorders on while she was saying it. You'll still get a chance."

"So now what?" T'Kir wondered.

"The arrests are completed, with the exception of one." P'ris replied, "What we will do now is track this lone criminal down while we process the rest of the conspirators."

"What about _us_?" T'Kir asked impatiently, "What do _we_ do next?"

"From the look on Commander Macen's face, I suggest you seek medical treatment. After that, I will see if I'm authorised to keep on this portion of the case. If not, you may return to the Federation with my gratitude."

"Sounds good to me." T'Kir smiled.

"We'll rendezvous at Headquarters then." P'ris suggested, "In the interim, I will attempt to track down who authorised that flitter's flight plan."

"Sounds like a plan." Macen agreed.

"Okey-dokey." T'Kir agreed to speed things along, "Can we get going now?"

"What's with you?" Macen asked as P'ris strode away.

"Y'know how I was raised by a Romulan dissident?"

Macen nodded, "Yes."

"Well, I have to get off this rock before my urge to yell 'Power to the people' gets this mission ruined."

"See?" he beamed, "You are an idealist after all."

"Spare me."

"It's true. Admit it."

"I am, and will forever will remain, a rabble-rouser. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Bless your little activist's heart when you say that."

T'Kir sighed in defeat and strapped her helmet back on, "Are you ready?"

Macen slapped down his helmet's face, "Let's do it."

* * *

Despite all assurances that their uniforms were not nano-bugged, Macen and T'Kir opted to remain in their retrieval squad uniforms. A very wry and chagrined P'ris led the pair to the transporter room for beaming up to the _Valinor_. They were to receive guest quarters there while P'ris received the answers to her queries and the investigation unfolded.

Macen and T'Kir were received warmly, a genuine warmth for once, by Donatra. She was quite pleased with the synopsis of the investigation's progress and the SID officers' role in it. For the first time, she regarded them with something akin to mutual respect. She led them through the warrens of the ship until coming before a particular door.

"These are the ship's VIP quarters. They are yours until your status is determined." Donatra informed them.

"And if we're to go?" Macen inquired.

"My understanding is that there is to be a brief ceremony at the Hall of State followed by your return to this vessel. We shall ferry you to your vessel then escort your starship out of Romulan space."

"Fair enough." Macen allowed, "Any idea of how long it'll be before our case is decided?"

Donatra gave him a rueful smile, "Bureaucracy being what it is, I suspect you have several hours. Relax, eat, bathe and relax."

With that said, she excused herself. Two guards were posted nearby with more undoubtedly secreted away in hidden corners of the corridor. Macen and T'Kir exchanged a glance and shrugged. They depressed the palm lock on the door and it slid aside to reveal a much more sumptuous room then they'd have expected from the otherwise austere Warbird.

T'Kir whistled, "I could get used to this."

"This must be designed for Senators and high ranking nobles." Macen observed.

"Ah, the price of being born a snob." T'Kir sighed as she collapsed upon the bed.

Macen gave her a wry grin, "Don't get too comfortable. We still eventually have to go back to the _Solstice_."

Sobered by the realisation that they would eventually return to their ship, a ship even more diminutive than the one they were employing for this operation, she did what any rational person with her mood and temperament would do: she stuck out her tongue.

Macen rolled his eyes and pulled a tricorder loose from his belt. He flipped it open and began to sweep the room.

"What'cha doin'?" T'Kir drawled.

"Seeing how many surveillance devices are in here and turned on." He answered.

"You think they'd spy on their leaders?"

"I think they'd spy on their beloved grandmothers if it afforded them some sort of advantage." Macen snorted.

"No doubt." T'Kir laughed, "Dibs on the shower... unless you'd care to join me?"

He gave her a lusty smile, "Always a pleasure."

* * *

On Romulus, P'ris and a sound tech were reviewing the recording taken by Macen's helmet of Cherand's final words. They were utilising the finest computers available to the Tal Shiar to enhance and clean up the audio captures. So far, they'd enhanced all of the overt dialogue caught by the recorder. Now they were moving on the more garbled mutterings and mumbles.

Despite the early successes achieved early on in the work, the nitty-gritty piecemeal portion had begun. P'ris was listening to a particular segment that she'd reviewed a dozen times before. Each replay was preceded by minute adjustments to the playback quality, frequency, modulation, and amplitude. P'ris remained relentless because she'd thought she'd heard Cherand evoke a name, the very name they were seeking in the final suspect.

When P'ris finally caught it, she very nearly missed it entirely. She replayed it again and once again the name surfaced. This time she did catch it and an icy dagger plunged into her heart. There were only two names in the entire Star Empire that could not, should not, be named by Cherand as the mysterious conspirator that had sold out her empire.

P'ris needed to act swiftly, and discreetly, if the final conspirator suspected she knew, she would be a dead woman, regardless of her position. She needed to recruit trustworthy allies. Allies that were incorruptible. That left two people in the vicinity of Romulus.

* * *

Macen and T'Kir had just finished returning their trays to the replicator when the door chime sounded. T'Kir called out "Come" in Romulan. The door slid aside to reveal P'ris. Macen observed that she bore the same ashen complexion that Cherand had for the final few moments of her life. She held the recording chip from his helmet up.

"This is the only copy of the recording that you made?"

"Yes." Macen replied warily.

"Praise the Elements!" P'ris nearly sobbed, "I sent the sound tech away with an excuse that I was coming up here to question you further but what I really needed to know..."

"Was if there were any other copies." Macen supplied, "Copies that would have to be destroyed."

P'ris nodded wordlessly, finally forcing out a croaked, "Yes."

"I take it you found something on the chip." Macen observed.

Another nod.

"Something that incriminates someone of staggering importance."

Another nod.

"So it's either the Praetor or Chairman Koval." Macen deduced out loud.

P'ris rewarded him with a hunted look and he glanced down at T'Kir, "That means it's Koval."

"Bummer." The Vulcan replied, "Nothing's worse than trying to arrest the boss."

"What am I to do?" P'ris pleaded.

"You have to at least confront him and see if you want to try and arrest him." Macen suggested, "An interview may reveal his innocence."

"It would be suicide." P'ris said, aghast.

"It's either that or letting a potential traitor go free." Macen said knowing, and ignoring, the fact Koval was a Federation agent, "Can you live with that?"

"No." P'ris said with a trace of conviction, "Will you come with me?"

"What?" Macen and T'Kir said in unison.

"He'll never suspect what is about to be sprung if you are there as well."

Her desperation caused Macen to relent, "All right, but we're moral support only. Any arrests have to be made by you."

"Agreed."

_We're gonna get killed, _T'Kir thoughtcast to Macen.

_Who knows? Maybe this will go smoothly._ He thought in reply.

_Are you kidding? This is us we're thinking about,_ she reminded him.

.

.


	17. Chapter 17

254

"How long are we gonna have to sit here?" Grace wondered aloud... for the third time in the last hour.

"Grammar young... whatever you are." Danan chided, "You've been hanging around T'Kir for too long."

"Wait a minute!" Grace protested, "What's this 'whatever' crap? Just because you've found out my ancestors were eight metres tall with multiple eyes and tentacles, you suddenly think I'm someone else. I'm still Hannah Grace. I still have feelings."

"It was a joke, Hannah." Danan tried to downplay the incident before a crisis erupted. Placating a near all-powerful being was proving to be more trouble than what it was worth, "We, as in the rest of the team, are still dealing with all that you've revealed to us. Humour is a coping mechanism. I'm sorry if the joke seemed in poor taste. It was the best I could do with what I had."

"Okay." Grace seemed mollified, then raised a solitary finger, "Now what's this about spending too much time with T'Kir. She's my best friend. Why wouldn't I spend time with her."

While Danan fended off this latest verbal barrage, Daggit and Radil, the bridge's only other occupants, scooted closer together and began to whisper amongst themselves.

"Remember when she was shy and retiring?" Daggit asked.

"How could I not, it was just a few days ago." Radil replied.

"Think those days are gone?"

"Forever." Radil assured him, "Now that she is freed from the burden of her secret, her true identity will surface at last. We'll finally meet the true Hannah Grace."

"I wonder how surprised the Captain and T'Kir will be by the changes in her?"

"I don't know. I think it'll be impossible to tell."

Daggit looked at her with some puzzlement, "What do you mean?"

"I think one of Macen's great tricks at appearing all knowing is to be instantly adaptable to whatever situation is presented to him."

"So your theory is that it isn't that he predicts what's coming, it's that he reacts faster than everyone else?"

"Yup."

"Let you in on a little secret." Daggit's whisper dropped several decibels, "It's both."

"If I didn't know you could kick my ass, I'd wipe that smirk off your face." Radil glowered

"What?" an exasperated Danan called out, "Do I have to break up a crisis up there now?"

"We're fine." Daggit assured her.

"Thank god." Danan sighed as she slumped into the command chair.

"And another thing..." Grace began.

Danan closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and prayed for the strength not to kill Grace.

* * *

Koval's calendar had been cleared to allot space for a meeting between the investigating team and the Director of the Tal Shiar. This was either an excellent sign or an extremely bad one. Koval either had nothing to hide nor fear or would have them seized and executed for their knowledge. It seemed the dilemma of what to do would be resolved either way.

P'ris struggled to seem calm. Her stray fidgets revealed a slight nervousness. Her face showed nothing. Only T'Kir's telepathy could sense the roiling turmoil under the surface.

Macen and T'Kir were apprehensive but had faith in their ability to get out of trouble even faster than they'd gotten into it. Although, with an entire planet full of Romulans potentially stacked up against them, the odds weren't exactly in their favour. In the end, T'Kir had faith that Macen hadn't finally led her astray and Macen had faith that the Currents had brought them here. There was a definite convergence of probabilities and outcomes centred in the office before them. Now it was merely a matter of deciphering the meaning of these convergences and their possible outcomes... that and manage to find a way to stay alive.

"The Chairman will see you now." Koval's ascetic looking aide announced and moved alongside the double doorway entrance leading to Koval's office.

The double doors swung open to reveal a rather cavernous space. The room was designed in the round. Besides the entrance they'd just entered from, there were two other doors leading to destinations unknown. Centred in the room, sat a semicircular desk. Behind the desk, suspended from the ceiling, hung several viewers. One large, starship sized viewer dominated the space. This was surrounded by smaller, standard desk-sized monitors.

Seated at the desk, half occluded in shadow, was Koval himself. The lighting was intended to intimidate the petitioner and it worked. Macen's nascent empathic abilities could sense P'ris girding up her resolve. T'Kir was still trusting in his judgement... and keeping telepathic tabs on the vicinity.

"Ah," Koval spoke, his voice and tone rather dry, "the intrepid investigators. It appears you have a report for my eyes only, Commander?"

P'ris nodded in the affirmative and Shook his head wearily, "Then why are these Starfleet 'officers', if one wishes to maintain the pretences regarding their true identities, present for a private meeting?"

"These 'officers', as you put it, are here to assist me in clarifying up some troubling allegations that have been made." P'ris answered.

Koval smiled coldly, "As I knew you would. Very well. Commander Macen, 'Lieutenant' T'Kir, I shall be counting upon your discretion in these... and other matters."

Macen gave Koval a barely perceptible nod and Koval's attention wholly shifted to P'ris, "In answer to your question: yes."

"Yes?" she repeated in confusion, "'Yes' to what question?"

"The question of whether or not I was guilty of knowing about the trilithium conspiracy." Koval dropped that revelation like a lead weight.

P'ris hesitated and Koval clucked his tongue at her, "Come now, Commander. You were once considered my brightest pupil. Surely you can surmise the appropriate question in response to my declaration."

"You knew of the conspiracy?" an affirmative nod answered her, "Were you part of the conspiracy?"

"If you mean by knowing of its activities and its membership in order to monitor its progress in order to unleash agents bent on its destruction at the appropriate time, then yes, I was part of the conspiracy."

"Your involvement was a ruse in order to entrap them?" P'ris asked with some incredulity.

"If you are certain of my guilt, consult with the Praetor." Koval suggested, "Otherwise, let me present my case. This is for your benefit as well as my own."

"My benefit?" P'ris wondered.

"You have a great talent, my dear but you are rather short-sighted when it comes to operational methodology. If all goes well, this will expand your horizons."

"How could you go along with them?" P'ris demanded, "They violated both Imperial law and our treaty with the Federation."

"I care little for our treaty prohibiting the use and distribution of trilithium weapons. I care only for the insane mind that would conceive of gaining strategic advantage over another by destroying a star. _That _is the individual that must be stopped for they are capable of any travesty."

"It was I that allowed the original reports of the missing trilithium devices to reach your capable hands." Koval confessed, "The conspirators had reached the point where they had actually distributed weapons and they had been used. It was only at this point that they committed crimes worthy our full attention."

"And the Federation's involvement?" P'ris pressed, "Why were they allowed to participate in the investigation?"

"In order to avoid the appearance of culpability. The Imperial government and even the Senate could be compromised if the truth were to be fully known."

"So Senator Cherand's death?"

"A tragic accident to be sure but it serves a higher purpose. As a suspect, Cherand brought the stain of dishonour upon herself. As a convicted criminal, she would stain the Senate itself." Koval explained, "If I were to ever discover who flew that flitter, I would thank them for a service well done."

Another protracted silence followed this admission. Finally, P'ris softly cleared her throat, "And what do I do now?"

"I care not." Koval declared, "I am safe enough within the Praetor's graces to survive any charges stemming from this case. Silence on the other hand would indicate your growth in comprehending the fundamental tactics a Tal Shiar leader can and must employ."

P'ris considered his words in silence. T'Kir cast a questioning glance Macen's way. He replied with a barest of shrugs. Koval remained as glacial as ever. Finally, P'ris sighed.

"All right. You win." She pronounced, "I not only understand why you did what you did, I understand the mechanics of it."

"Excuse me," Macen spoke at last, "but how can that be?"

"No Imperial interests were harmed or placed at risk. The trilithium weapons used were under Romulan control but aimed at targets selected by lesser races. The Empire suffered no real harm beside the loss of face."

Macen thought his head would explode, "What a load of crap! We were charged with finding and apprehending those involved with this conspiracy. That means _everyone _involved in the conspiracy. It's not our job to determine guilt or innocence."

"There you have it wrong." P'ris corrected him, "The Tal Shiar _is _charged with determining the guilt or innocence of a suspect. I've made my determination. It will stand. As this is my home and my government, my decision will go unchallenged, am I clear?"

"So, we're reduced to threats?" Macen asked coldly.

'Not threats... suggestions intended to bring about a mutually successful conclusion to this affair. The future of such joint ventures weighs heavily in the balance." P'ris worked to diffuse the more militant atmosphere of a moment before.

"Commander," Koval interceded, "surely you see that the continuity of the existing order is of paramount importance. A radical shake-up in the Senate and the upper echelons of the military and the Tal Shiar could easily work to your disadvantage. There is an entire generation of firebrands waiting in the wings of power who'd love nothing more than to engage the Federation in open warfare and see who fared the best against the Dominion."

Koval then smiled nastily, "Besides, aren't you supposed to adhere to a principle of non-interference in the internal affairs of others. This is our affair. We'll handle it as we see fit."

Macen's jaw clenched and unclenched for several moments but finally he nodded assent, "We do have that principle. Handle this matter however you see fit."

"Wisely spoken, Commander." Koval praised Macen for his positional shift.

"So now what?" Macen asked.

"Now you return to your uniforms," Koval held up a deflecting hand, "which I assure you will not be bugged. Nanobugs are too short range to be of any use anyway."

Macen wasn't reassured but nodded, "and after that?"

"A small ceremony will be conducted at the Hall of State where the Praetor will praise the symbolism of this joint effort and the efforts of the investigators as well."

"Oh joy." T'Kir was heard to mutter.

"You _will _be respectful and grateful for the Praetor's attention." Koval warned.

"Yeah." T'Kir replied bitterly, "Not a problem."

Koval cast a menacing glare her way while Macen asked another question, "Do we also get to speak? On behalf of the Federation I mean."

Koval's smile became solicitous, "The Federation ambassador will be speaking on behalf of your government. You need only appear and accept the accolades of the Romulan people."

Macen and Koval locked gazes, trying and testing one another's mettle. Finally Macen backed down, "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse my crew and I, we will be unable to attend the festivities."

Koval's cheeks coloured a bit but his expression remained as bland as before. No outward sign betrayed his seething fury, "Are you certain? The Praetor will be most disappointed."

_Turn our investigation into a farce will you? I'll turn your award ceremony into a joke as well._ Macen thought.

_Damn skippy!_ T'Kir rallied to his mental aid

"We have repair issues that can only be addressed at a Federation starbase." Macen explained smoothly, "There was a also a security matter that arose over the course of the investigation."

"I was informed that you had suffered a mutiny." Koval stated, "I'm assuming your presence here is an indicator of your success in overcoming it."

"Yes." Macen gave Koval a slight nod, "There remains, however, investigations to be conducted, boards of inquiry to be held and courts martials and other appropriate punishments to be meted out. I'm sure you understand."

"But of course." This smile was almost genuine, "I will personally inform the Praetor of your regrets. We will forward any medals or honours to you through your embassy."

"You needn't bother." Macen assured him.

"I assure you, we must." Koval replied, "Now, to return you to the _Valinor_ and then to your ship. Inform Commander Donatra that I will be keeping Commander P'ris planetside for a few days. She has that long to do whatever she likes."

Macen grinned despite his frustration with the situation. T'Kir mentally flashed him a warning and he sobered up. She moved closer to him. Koval noted this and smiled coldly.

"If I were to so choose, the number of agents that would swarm into this room would overwhelm even you two. You see, I am aware of your rather formidable reputation and came prepared." Koval informed them, "Fortunately, they will prove superfluous now."

"Why?" Macen asked. T'Kir punched him in the arm and shot him an evil look.

"I believe we have an understanding now." Koval folded his hands together, "Romulan internal affairs are to remain internal. We asked for your help in finding the criminals responsible for the sale of trilithium weapons. _We_ will deal with them and use our own methods for determining their guilt. Before, you struggled with that. Your decision to depart and leave the matter to us is both wise and indicative of your new-found wisdom."

"How's this for wisdom?" Macen asked, "If I thought the Praetor would listen to me, I'd show him our evidence against you. Since I don't think he'll listen to me, I'm leaving that to those that might have an attack of conscience later on."

"Goodbye Commander Macen." Koval said with obvious annoyance and tapped a button on his desk, "_Valinor_, this is Koval, the transport inhibitors are deactivated. Lock on to our Starfleet 'comrades' and beam them out of my sight."

Koval massaged his temples as the two SID agents dissolved into a shimmer of energy, "Thank the Elements they're gone."

"Can I be of assistance?" P'ris asked

"No." Koval sighed, "Thank _Reynak_ I can count upon your loyalty P'ris. Too many other of my agents are nothing but mercenaries."

P'ris glanced away guiltily, "If you have no further need of me, I shall return to my investigative duties."

"Good girl." Koval said with his head propped back. P'ris shut the doors behind her, earning her an approving look from Koval's aide.

* * *

Being freed from the yoke of her own personal chaperone pleased Donatra. She offered up the use of the VIP quarters again, then insisted, confessing she had nowhere else to put them either than the brig. In a rare moment of solidarity she even promised to deactivate the various monitors and listening devices lining the bulkheads. Macen and T'Kir accepted her offer and thanked her for her confidence in them. Donatra shrugged.

The rendezvous with the _Shadow_ went without incident, as did the transfer of personnel. Returned to his temporary command, Macen felt a lightening of his mood despite the fact that seven-eighths of his crew had been reduced to small spherical objects. At least the last one-eighth was unwavering in their support... usually. When they didn't, well, he just ignored them. It just so happened that he ignored them a lot.

* * *

"Grace, get us underway." He ordered the moment the bridge turbolift doors opened.

"Well, hello t'you too." Grace snapped.

Macen paused for a moment and shot a questioning glance Danan's way.

Danan shrugged. Macen waved the matter aside and went into his ready room. T'Kir and Danan followed closely on his heels. Macen fell into the Captain's chair. T'Kir plopped down on the small couch adjacent to the desk.

"Make our speed warp one-point-five." Macen instructed.

"That slow?" Danan balked, "Why are we lingering around? The mission's over. Let's get the hell out of here."

"Things may still change." Macen insinuated, "We'd have less of a turnaround time if we're still in the neighbourhood."

"What do we tell the _Valinor_?" Danan asked.

"Tell her the truth, we don't want to overwork our engines and their engineer."

"Yessir." Danan rolled her eyes and departed.

"Ah," Macen said expansively, "the respect that comes with authority."

"Respect is earned, m'love." T'Kir replied, "This gambit of yours makes no sense and everyone will know it."

"D'you think I'm crazy?"

"I think you're desperate to see justice done." T'Kir explained, "This is one of those cases you're always lecturing about: the hard reality isn't going to match up to the ideal outcome. We have to simply accept the present situation and make do as best we can."

"Sounds like you've memorised that speech."

"It seemed to get Ro Laren through the Maquis Uprising, I figured it had to have some merit."

"Want to go to our cabin?"

"Business or pleasure?"

"Business being..?"

"Sleep."

"Definitely pleasure than."

"Count me in."

A few moments after Macen and T'Kir had departed, a grinning Kort appeared on the bridge, "You should have seen the Captain and T'Kir going at it in the passageway. They couldn't even wait to get to their quarters."

"Well," Danan commented, "it's not like there's a crew whose confidence will be eroded by such displays. Add to that the fact that both of them just survived a rather harrowing adventure on Romulus, I'm betting they want to celebrate merely being alive."

"How do you know about their planetary adventures?" Daggit asked.

"That Federation signal being relayed to us is coming from the UFP embassy and the wire services on Romulus." Danan explained, holding up a padd she was reading, "Pretty thrilling stuff. Seems the Captain outdid himself this time, at least in the Romulans' opinion."

"I should have been there." Daggit muttered darkly.

"Macen and T'Kir can take care of themselves." Danan fired back, "They've been doing it, together and apart, but mostly together, for years. If you'd been there, you'd have just been in the way."

The hint of bitterness in her voice reminded everyone present that Lisea Danan had stepped aside in her relationship with Macen in order to make room for T'Kir's attempt to pair bond with the unpredictable intelligence officer. Thus far, T'Kir had earned far more trust in a far shorter period of time than Danan had ever come close to accomplishing. She saw the reactions on the faces of those on the bridge with her and cursed herself. Her regrets must not become public knowledge to this group. Dysfunctional as they were, they were a tight knit group of misanthropes. They were misfits everywhere in the galaxy except when they were united together as a whole. Then they were an unstoppable juggernaut.

* * *

The trip to the Neutral Zone passed without incident...unfortunately. Much to Macen's disappointment, the Praetor's award ceremony went without incidence. P'ris never revealed the existence of the evidence against Koval to him. Before the _Shadow_ departed Romulan space, Donatra hailed the Federation starship.

"Thank you again for your assistance in these matters. Your presence focused Commander P'ris and the rest of us. Your resolve was to be admired and emulated." Donatra hesitated then plunged on, "You've altered my opinion of Federation citizens in general and Starfleet officers in particular. Perhaps, someday, I will be in a position for my new opinions to count towards something."

"I can only hope so as well." Macen replied, "Thank you for your honesty and steadfastness throughout this mission, Commander. You were the investigation's right hand and strong arm."

"Enough of this." Donatra blushed slightly, "Away with you before I have to board your vessel for violating the Neutral Zone treaty."

"You heard the lady, Grace, make your course heading sector zero-zero-one and your speed warp five." Macen ordered as he settled down into his chair.

"Elements preserve you." Donatra signed off.

"Fates watch over you as well." Macen rejoined then cut the transmission.

He rubbed his bearded chin and glanced over towards Danan, seated in the XO's chair, "Well, we're finally headed home."

Danan lifted herself up and twisted so that Daggit could hear her clearly, "Be sure to broadcast our identity on all IFF frequencies. I'd hate for the border defences to go active and blow us up on the way back to our glorious 'triumph'."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Back at Spacedock, the _Shadow_ was berthed at her assigned slip. Several security teams had come aboard to collect Commander Chekova and her cohorts. Grace returned them to their original forms in metered progressions. It took several hours to gather, sort and transform the spheres. The Security detail didn't know whether to be impressed or terrified.

Admiral Drake knew which she'd prefer, "Imagine what we could do with a dozen more just like her!"

"You're in luck then," Macen replied dryly, "according to Grace there's several thousand, perhaps over hundreds of thousands, more of her kind headed for the Milky Way."

"Can their present colony support them?" Drake asked.

"For the foreseeable future." Macen answered.

"Then they should have nothing to fear from us." Drake poured herself a cup of coffee and offered Macen some, "Of course, the Federation Council is the final arbiter on diplomatic policy."

"And therein lies the sticky wicket." Macen muttered.

"I know you haven't been a fan of the current administration's policies since the close of the Dominion War, but that's part of the price of democracy, We put up with less desirable leadership at times and await the next election and our chance to appoint new leadership when the time comes." Drake waxed on, then chuckled; "That's assuming, of course, you can find a candidate worth voting for."

"Don't lecture me on democracy." Macen sighed in annoyance, "My ancestors were erecting democratic republics on other worlds while your own Greeks were scrabbling about for rocks to make tools with."

"Okay," Drake took a sip of her coffee, "no more cultural comparisons."

Macen took a swig of his mug's contents and set it down on her desk, "Have you had a chance to read my report?"

"Yes, I have." Drake's expression was carefully neutral.

"And?" Macen could have sworn it was like pulling teeth.

"The entire Commission of Five has seen it." Drake warned and made recommendations as to how this situation could have been improved.

"Jellico." Macen growled, "Just great."

"First and foremost, it was felt by _all_ of the Commissioners that you should have stayed and attended the Praetor's ceremony."

"It was a hypocritical joke." Macen protested.

"It was still a function that an active Starfleet officer would have been compelled to attend." Drake pointed out, "This leads us to our second point, it has been suggested that irregulars and inactive duty officers should not be part of the SID owing to its handling of extremely sensitive matters ands situations."

"Now _that _sounds like Jellico." Macen snarled.

"The point is this: your job hangs by a thread. The vote on the non-Starfleet agents came down to three to two but that third vote is tenuous at best." Drake explained, "You can't afford to draw criticism. Not if you wish to continue working for the SID."

"This is bullshit." Macen snapped.

Drake nodded, "It very well may be but it's also the noose around your neck."

Macen shook his head then grinned crazily, "I promise to behave Mom."

Drake sighed heavily and rested her head in her hand, "Why don't I believe you?"

"Maybe `cause you know me too well?"

"Brin," she said with all levity departed from her voice, "be careful. He's gathered support this time. Alynna and I can only protect you so much and so far."

Macen blinked in surprise. Drake was exposing a lot of herself with this admission. It was a rare day when Alynna Nechayev and Amanda Drake were on the defensive. The combined power of Starfleet Intelligence and the Special Investigations Division was generally enough to persuade any faction within Starfleet command of the surety of their cause and position.

Macen nodded contritely, "All right. I'll do my best."

* * *

"So what do we do now?" Dracas wondered.

"We do what we do best." Macen replied, "If they don't like it, they can fire us. We still have a legitimate business concern to fall back on." That brightened everyone's spirits and Macen sent them to their stations. He and T'Kir hesitated before heading to the _Solstice's _bridge

"Are we really gonna be able to stick with the SID?" she asked.

He shook his head, "I don't know. The way things are going, I really doubt it."

"Full time privateers and security 'consultants'," she chuckled, "That'll make for an interesting life."

He put his arms around her, "When isn't our life interesting?"

"When we're apart." T'Kir answered in a breathy voice.

"Actually," Macen said in a teasing tone, "my life was really pretty exciting while you were away. Ask Daggit."

"Listen buster," she growled, "I wasn't 'away', I was locked up in the Federation funny farm. Don't talk to me about excitement until you've tried spending two years with bed wetters, droolers, and screamers."

"I did try it." Macen smirked, "Ask Daggit."

"You're insufferable." T'Kir punched him in the shoulder.

"But I also love you." He said.

"I don't believe you." She pouted.

"Do you believe this?" he drew her in and kissed her passionately.

"Do it again and I'll believe you." She said in a husky voice.

He heard and he obeyed.

"D'you think we should make an appearance and mind the children for awhile?" Macen asked after a moment.

"D'we have to?"

Probably." Macen replied, "Price of being 'Captain' and all that."

"This is why I prefer being one of the children." T'Kir said.

"But you're also the naughtiest which is why I have to watch you the most."

"Oh, really?" she bit her lower lip and gave him a seductive look.

"Oh hell," Macen said in surrender, "there goes the afternoon's plans."


End file.
